


Go Back Three Spaces

by linzackles



Series: Do Not Collect $200 [3]
Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: Angst, Beth makes worse choices, F/M, Getting to Know Each Other, Relationship Evolution, Slow Burn, really the whole gamut of everything plus some more angst for good luck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2020-08-20 20:55:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 72,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20234233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linzackles/pseuds/linzackles
Summary: “Is that really the only information you’re going to give us?” Beth asks.“I’ll give you everythin else you need to know later.”“Later?”“Yea, when I bring the guns.”“The guns?” Ruby blurts out.“Yeah, Imma need you to use real ones this time.”ORRio has a job for the girls and it changes everything.





	1. Taste Like You

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Wednesday :) Ahem, as for the rest, I'll catch back up with ya at the bottom, ok?

“Hi, Miss Beth.”

Beth’s gaze shoots up from the smiling boy outside her front door to Rio and then to the plain white pizza box he’s holding above his son’s head.

“Um. Hi, Marcus.”

“Kid wanted to bring you pizza,” Rio explains.

She gives him a _look_ then forces a smile down at Marcus.

“Thanks so much! Come on in!”

Her tone is overly cheerful even to her own ears but she ignores her own cringing, putting a light hand on Marcus’ head to lead him through to the kitchen, leaving Rio to close up.

“Did you make it yourself?” she asks. 

“Uh huh. Me and my dad.”

“That’s so cool. Do you have a pizza oven?”

“Uh huh. Dad got one in his new place.”

And Beth tries not to react to the mention of Rio’s new apartment, but she knows she fails when Rio’s eyes land on her as they all get to the kitchen. She’s careful not to meet them.

“Do you want a milkshake, Marcus?”

Anything to keep her busy.

Marcus bops his head happily and Beth turns to get first plates then the ice cream, milk and syrup.

It’s only when she starts mixing that Rio speaks up: “What, I don’t get one?”

And she very much wants to say _No, you don’t_, but is conscious of Marcus being in the room, so instead she just adds more ingredients into the container she’s mixing in.

Rio and Marcus eat and, once she’s laid out their milkshakes, she gets a slice too.

“Mmm, this is really good. Thank you, Marcus.”

“Dad makes really good _pizza_,” he nods.

His emphasis isn’t lost on either of them.

“Whatchu tryna say, Pop?”

“Dad. The mac and cheese,” Marcus points out gravely.

Rio rolls his eyes. “You burn one pot o’ pasta and the nine-year-old never lets you live it down. What can _you_ make, huh?”

“Unburnt pasta.”

Which makes Beth giggle, she can’t help it, and Rio looks more than a little miffed.

“You’ve made pasta, Marcus?” she enquires.

He nods. “_Mommy_ taught me.”

It makes her laugh again, Rio rolling his eyes.

And then the moment descends into silence, Beth wracking her brain for something to say to Marcus, but all she can think of is the elephant in the room. Or, rather, the incredibly infuriating crime boss with an elephant-sized ego and even more gall.

A few more minutes pass, Beth silently munching on pizza with her eyes trained on the counter. Then Marcus looks up at Rio.

“Daddy, are you and Miss Beth fighting?”

Her head snaps up just in time to see Rio nod.

“Uh huh.”

Her jaw falls slack at him actually having the audacity to answer in the affirmative – with the world’s least sensitivity, no less – but the boy seems to absorb the information nonchalantly before turning to her.

“Miss Beth, can I watch TV?”

“_Please_,” Rio enforces.

“Please?” he smiles toothily, adorable as ever.

“Yes, of course,” she says, her voice coming out weird.

She helps him off his seat then ruffles at his hair as he gets comfortable on the sofa and she clicks at the remote.

She gets him set up with the channel he wants to watch, makes sure he’s comfortable, then goes to stand in the doorway of her bedroom, glaring pointedly at Rio.

He takes a second to catch it, then another to actually move towards her, and Beth’s all the way furious by the time they both make it into her bedroom, Rio closing the door behind him.

“You can’t do this.”

“What’s that?”

“Bring him here to manipulate me.”

“He wanted to bring you pizza.”

“And you couldn’t say no?”

He shrugs. “Didn’t wanna.”

“And god forbid you having to do anything you don’t want to do,” she scoffs.

Not bothering to wait for an answer, Beth heads into the bathroom.

He follows.

“Least _I know_ what I want.”

Beth turns on the faucet to wash the pizza off her hands, repressing a response.

She doesn’t know how to verbalise the fact that her frustration with him is all mixed up into what she wants; that _knowing_ what she wants isn’t the problem – _he’s_ the problem. So instead she washes her hands.

When she’s done, she nearly turns off the running water, but Rio slides in next to her to wash his too, and her eyes are involuntarily drawn to his large hands under the water and the self-assured ease with which they move. It brings to mind the way he’d touched her in his shower; the way he’d sucked her nipples and her tongue into his mouth.

Rio catches her looking and, pinking, Beth quickly turns to dry off her hands. She shoves the towel at him when she’s done, avoiding his smirk.

“Shit, I ain’t never seen someone this mad about a car lot.”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s not about the lot and you know it. Besides, that’s redundant now.”

He turns back from re-hanging the hand towel _just so_ to regard her, brows slightly furrowed.

“And why’s that?”

She shrugs. “I bought it.”

And when he speaks it comes slow, husky with fury.

“’Scuse me?”

“Dean and I signed the papers this afternoon.”

“See, that’s funny, ‘cuz I remember sayin no.”

“And _I_ don’t remember your opinion mattering.”

His jaw ticks. “That so?”

“It’s my dealership. If you don’t want the second lot for the pills, that’s fine.” Now she’s the one smirking: “Just keep telling customers to hold; that their call is important to us.” Folding her arms, she lifts her chin. “The time of my life when I waited in the corner for a man to make all the big, scary decisions is _long_ gone.”

Something changes in his eyes.

It’s a bit like admiration and a bit like –

“You’re so fuckin sexy when you take charge, ma.”

Beth forces herself not to react, even as heat darts between her legs.

“Too bad you’re not ready to commit.”

She spins on her heel to leave the bathroom, but stops in the doorway when he speaks.

“That the new thing you gonna hold against me for the foreseeable future?”

She spins, eyes sharp. “Maybe that wouldn’t be a problem if you didn’t keep saying awful things.”

“Yeah, ‘cuz I’m the only one who says shit.”

“_I_ apologise!”

He steps forward. “That what you want?”

“No.”

He cocks his head, taking another small step closer.

It’s not that she doesn’t want him to admit he was wrong. It’s just that she wants him to know it’s not the extent of the problem; she wants him to know that she knows. She knows what she wants.

_All that matters_ _is what you want, sweetheart._

“I want you to stop making this so difficult.”

His jaw works for a second.

Then: “A’ight.”

It encourages her.

“I want you to stop making me feel like this is all in my head.”

The way he’d spit out the word _us _– god, it had killed her.

He watches her, silently taking another step forward.

“I want you to stop making me beg for information that I deserve to know; to stop acting like I’m being unreasonable when I expect you to make any sense.”

He seems to absorb this, before smirking: “I’m hearin a whole lotta ‘_I want you_’.”

She glares. “I want to feel like I’m in an adult relationship. Not some fucked-up game of 20 Questions.”

It takes her a whole second to realise what she’s said.

Had she really just asked him for a relationship??

She blinks when he steps closer then places his hands behind his back as he presses into the opposite side of the doorway, considering her.

“That’s whatchu want?”

Her breaths are shallow but, thinking about Ruby’s words – _I know after Dean you’re not exactly looking for someone to walk you down the aisle, but you’re also not this ‘We’ll see where the wind takes us’ person_ – she manages to answer.

“Yes.”

Ruby had been right. She’s sick of the in-between. They’ll always be business partners, but she’s done with the constant uncertainty and undefined non-specifics. If he doesn’t want to commit to something with her then… well, then she’ll just have to deal with that.

“That it?” Rio asks, brow raised.

Confused, she tries to read his expression, but there’s nothing there for her to latch onto. At best he looks slightly amused; slightly intrigued.

“Y-yes.”

He pushes off.

“You ain’t forgettin nothin?”

Her entire body tenses. She knows that tone.

“…Like what?”

“Dunno. You don’t want me to shave my head or nothin?”

Beth blinks.

“You don’t exactly have that much hair left as it is,” she breathes, because an equally absurd response seems like the only way to go.

Now he’s even more amused and there’s barely any space left between them.

“You don’t want me to tattoo your name across my chest or sum’n?”

She presses up onto her toes.

“I mean, I’m not taking it off the table.”

He breaks into a grin and his hand grabs her ass, holding on tight.

She’s figured out what he’s trying to convey, now. He accepts her conditions; doesn’t find them at all unreasonable.

_Ask for it and it’s yours, darlin._

It sets her heart uncontrollably aflutter.

But.

“Are you going to tell me why you freaked out this morning?”

Something hardens in his eyes.

“I can’t.”

“Rio–”

“This the business we in, Elizabeth. Sometimes there’s gonna be shit I can’t tell you.”

She thinks of Spert; of Nico.

_God_. Nico.

She pushes it out of her mind.

“Fine.” She sets her shoulders. “But I’m gonna need you to do better.”

And he barks out a laugh, no doubt remembering when he’d levelled that demand at her.

“Yeah, I’m gettin that.”

She wants to say more but then his hand on her begins kneading and, losing her train of thought, she tugs him to her. His grin is the last thing she sees before he kisses her, deep.

It’s like they’ve been separated for days, not hours, and in seconds she’s whimpering, clenching around nothing. Her fingers are dug into his sides and she licks at the side of his mouth; relishes the taste of his tongue.

Eventually they pull away to gain their breaths back and she smirks.

“You taste like caramel milkshake.”

His smirk is less amused; more filthy.

“Yea? You want me to taste like you, mami?”

God, yes.

But…

“Marcus,” she breathes.

“Shit. Figured the kid’d be a lot older ‘fore women started calling me by his name.”

She can’t help laughing at the dumb joke, but she pushes him off her.

“I mean he’s right outside.”

His smile is smug. “Yeah, I always got you moanin the house down, huh?” Then, unbothered by her glare: “I’ll turn the TV up.”

Beth’s just about had enough time to check what underwear she’s wearing when Rio’s back, looking sheepish.

“Kid’s passed out.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Guess it’s all that pizza-makin. We gotta move him?”

She considers.

“If you don’t mind, I don’t. We actually slept there the first night he stayed here.”

He cocks his head. “Remind me why I thought you were the best person for the job?”

He laughs at her scowl.

“I believe you said it was because I’d raised an army – which four kids doesn’t count as, by the way.” She steps out into the bedroom with him. “Did you turn off the TV?”

He nods. “And put the blanket on him.”

She looks at him; _looks at him_.

“Ok, then.”

And his smirk is like it had been that day at the bar, when she’d said she didn’t have the money with her.

She holds his eyes for a second longer then moves past him to lock the bedroom door.

Then she steps toward him, undoing the buttons on her pajama jacket.

His eyes follow her every movement and she makes sure to plant her feet when she’s gone half the way.

Nodding, he crosses the rest of the distance then reaches to take the jacket off her. He steps even closer when it’s on the floor, running his finger over the mounds of her breasts.

She watches his dark gold digit move over her pale too-soft skin and Beth doesn’t want to breathe wrong, so scared the moment might break. So scared they might break. Again.

She wraps her arms around him, something she’s never done when they aren’t kissing, and cradles the back of his head with one. His hair is prickly against her palm and it’s absurd how familiar it feels; how the happiness that she gets to feel it again _aches_.

They stand like that for a while, just touching each other. Her feeling his stubborn neck and head as he traces slow but fiery chains into her chest.

Eventually he speaks.

“You and me, we ain’t easy, mami.”

Does he think she doesn’t know that? How many more unnecessary reminders does he intend on giving her?

_You know what we doin here is dangerous, right?_

But when she meets his eyes, she realises it’s not about what she’s feeling.

“And I don’t give a fuck no more.”

She’s shaking. The look in his eyes – god. It has her breathless.

Her hands go down to his jacket, pulling down the zipper – badly, with her hands shaking – and he lets her nearly finish before he does the rest of it himself and steps back to shrug out of it. He does his shirt too and when he steps forward, his chest is bare. His hands go up to her face and that’s when she sees it for the first time – a scar on his side, beneath his arm. It’s long and uneven, like a bullet graze.

Her fingers go to it, his words coming back to her again.

_You know what we doin here is dangerous, right?_

But is the danger them? Or in someone knowing about them?

Or both?

And, with her fingers pressed to one of his old wounds, it’s clear she’s not the only one thinking about it.

“Imma keep you safe, Elizabeth.” One hand caresses her jaw as the other runs over her shoulder. “I ain’t lettin no one put a hand on you.”

It makes her remember Spert’s question: _What do you think he’d do if the roles were reversed?_

“I know,” she says, and pulls him closer.

The kiss is fiery but they relish it for longer than usual, his fingers on her jaw and her nails pressed into the warm skin at his neck.

“Rio,” she whispers; whimpers.

“Hmm,” he murmurs back, free hand slipping beneath the line of her bra.

She pushes in closer to him and her nipples harden against his chest when he pulls off the too-practical bra, making her nip at his lip, and he groans at both, beginning to push her backwards. She swaps their positions as they move, though, then begins working at his pants.

His fingers go to the elastic band on hers and soon they’re both in underwear bottoms only, something she quickly corrects before pushing him to sit at the edge of the bed. He kicks away his boxer briefs with his shoes then looks up at her, hands going to rest on her hips.

For a moment he just looks at her, from top to toe. Red hair, blue eyes, pale shoulders, full chest. She watches him take it all in before landing on the flowery panties.

Then slowly, deliberately, he licks his lips as he slowly lowers them, his hands tracing every inch of her on the way down.

It’s all quicker from there – she frames his hips with hers as her hand goes down to grasp him, his groans buried in her chest as he takes each breast into his mouth and sucks on her nipples, drawing moans and unbearable heat from within her. She manages to tease him, though, retracting her hand to press just a little against the head of his cock, and Rio swears under his breath as she bites at her lip to keep concentration. She kisses him as she moves, sliding along his length to get him wet enough, and his hand fists in her hair, fingers dug into her scalp.

Then she can’t wait anymore, she takes him all the way inside her, and both their breaths stutter as Rio’s other hand finds her ass and _squeezes_.

“Oh,” she breathes, a quiver of delight running through her as he lights up something indescribably deep within her.

“Fuck, mami,” he complains, nipping at her neck.

“You feel so good,” she can’t help saying, her voice sounding wind-swept and far from herself.

He whines into her neck, pulling at her ass, and Beth starts moving a little, rocking forward.

“Yes; fuck, yes,” he moans.

It drives her, moving her faster, and too quickly they’re way too loud, drowning out even the sounds of their bodies as she half-bounces, half-rocks.

She goes faster, faster, and she’s coming when he suddenly flips them over, driving into her rapidly and rubbing roughly over her clit – it has her barrelling straight into another orgasm, her body jolting with all the sensations.

She calls his name as she pulls him closer and his head is buried in her neck when he comes, so long and hard that he pulls out and finishes on her thighs with curses she can’t register. 

When he’s done, he collapses onto her, and Beth feels warm inside and out. And also like jello. A hundred percent jello.

She closes her eyes and after a while Rio disappears. Then there’s a warm cloth between her legs and then it too disappears.

The bed dips beside her and Beth's eyes are still closed when he pulls her toward him and kisses her. She’s still too exhausted to return it with any real fervour but he doesn’t seem bothered, his hands roaming her breasts tenderly.

Finally she manages to pry her eyes open to find him staring at her, pensive.

She swallows.

“You know when I said there’s a limit to how many times a woman can come in a night?”

He nods.

“Did you decide to up the intensity instead?”

And this makes him laugh hard, his chest rippling, and Beth can’t help it – she dives forward and lays a kiss on his laughing lips. He goes rigid at first, stunned, before putting a hand in her hair to pull her closer and licking a line along the seam of her lips. She’s almost all the way onto him when she pulls away suddenly.

He lifts a brow and Beth grins.

“One second.”

She clambers off him then the bed, puts her pajama jacket back on, then unlocks the bedroom door to slip out. When she tiptoes back in, she has the pizza box in hand.

Rio's brows nearly jump off his forehead as his eyes gleam.

“You the woman of my fuckin dreams.”

She giggles, locking the door behind her again before climbing back on the bed, being careful not to tip the box.

They both settle against the headboard and she places the pizza on his lap, which he doesn’t complain about.

“No messing,” she warns.

“Don’t like crumbs, ma?”

“I don’t, actually.”

“We could always sleep on the floor.” He gives her a look. “Mmm… Ever been fucked on the floor, mami?”

He tugs his lip into his mouth, clearly imagining it, and Beth can’t help it, she tips forward to kiss him.

It lasts a while, her hand traversing his toned chest, before she finally pulls away and grabs a slice of pizza.

“Just… don’t mess.”

He chuckles, breathy.

“A’ight.”

For a while they don’t speak, sneaking glances at each other over their slices.

She wonders what he’s thinking. She wonders whether this is really happening – are they really together now? Is he her boyfriend?

God. How does she even… ask that?

She clears her throat.

“So to, um, follow up on our conversation earlier… What are you not going to _freak out_ about me telling the girls?”

The question comes out filled with her own trepidation, but Rio’s smile is playful.

“Whatchu _wanna_ say, huh? That you cuffed me, ma?”

“I… have no idea what that means.”

He laughs, shaking his head in amusement. “Tell em whatever you wana tell em,” he shrugs. “Long as they ain’t out tellin the world.”

Which doesn’t answer the boyfriend/girlfriend question at all, and now she can’t ask again. Beth represses a sigh.

“This may come as a surprise to you, but we don’t actually go around broadcasting our gang affiliations.”

They’ve both finished their pizza and Rio tosses the box to the floor before pulling her entire body closer to him on the bed.

His eyes are inky, suddenly serious.

Her lips part with a breath, surprised by the sudden change, and he draws slowly, softly, across her bottom lip, his thumb almost too tender.

“You tell em whatever you wana tell em, mami,” he says finally. “Long as you ain’t ever callin yourself work again.”

She blinks, remembering their argument earlier.

_So what are you, Elizabeth?_

_Work. That's what you said I was._

Beth doesn’t know what to say, so she kisses him. It doesn’t last long but it says something, something she doesn’t know how to say aloud.

She pulls back to draw over his lips, thoughtful.

“You’re the most frustrating person I’ve ever known,” she says eventually, voice soft but weighty.

She hopes it, too, says more than comes off her tongue.

“That a fact?”

Her other hand goes to his neck. She’s as close as she can be without sitting in his lap and the proximity feels like intimacy.

“You make me dizzy,” she admits, swallowing. “Not in a good way.”

The words surprise even her, but Rio’s expression is unreadable.

“There’s a good way?”

“…I think so.”

She doesn’t know. Dean had never made her dizzy. But in the books, that’s what it says. You get so giddy, you’re dizzy. You’re with that person and it feels like being on a merry-go-round. You fall dizzily in love.

“I hate it, Rio.”

He stares at her for a while, just like that night.

_What are you doing, Elizabeth?_

_I don’t know. I just want it to be over._

_Yeah? Ok._

Considering her. Taking her apart. Figuring out how he can make it better. Knowing how effortlessly he can make it so much worse.

And then he comes closer. She holds still as he moves some of the hair out of her face.

Then he nods.

“Then let’s stop spinnin, mami.”

She loses her breath.

Then, blinking: “Really?”

He pops a brow. “Whatchu need, a memo?”

She smacks him across the chest, the moment instantly broken, and Rio laughs throatily.

“God, you’re annoying,” she rolls her eyes, beginning to put a bit of space between them. But she’s smiling a little, she can’t help it.

“Fuckin scooter,” Rio says suddenly.

She turns to him with a frown, catching his amused expression.

“_What_?”

Laughing under his breath, he shakes his head.

“Nothin.”

“Do you have Tourettes?”

“Oh, you got jokes, huh?”

“Actually, what I have is another follow-up question – how does one burn mac and cheese?”

She’s giggling when he kisses her hard, punishing, and her hands go to both sides of his face as she tries to stay upright despite the force of the kiss.

When he pulls away, he looks pleased with himself, and Beth rolls her eyes.

After a few seconds, his gaze drops to her hand on the bed, the moment taking on a conspicuous sort of quiet.

He starts brushing over her fingers distractedly, almost fidgeting.

Then, finally, it comes.

“I ain’t gonna be in town for a coupla days.”

Beth frowns, nerves bundling in her stomach on instinct.

“Why?”

“Schiller’s in Richmond. Wants to see me.”

Schiller. The man’s name always shoots ice water into her veins.

“Should I be worried?”

Looking back up, he shakes his head.

“Naw, it ain’t unheard of. He paranoid; hates discussin his business over the phone.”

Beth tries to read him, but doesn’t come up with much – she thinks he’s telling the truth.

She regards him for a few more seconds, then: “Are you going to tell him about your meeting this morning?”

“Might.”

“But you won’t tell me.”

“You got it. Imma pull Skull off the lot so he can keep an eye on you while I ain’t in town,” he blasts right into a different line of conversation.

“Who’s Skull??”

“I don’t know their fuckin consumer-facin names, darlin.”

“Well, what does he look like?”

“…Black and purple hair, I guess.”

“Oh, Jermaine.”

“_Jermaine_, then.” He rolls his eyes.

“But who’s going to do his deliveries?”

“You gonna have to do some shufflin around.” He ignores her resulting glare, levelling her with a curious look instead. “How long till you got the second lot up and runnin?”

“A few months.” She sighs when he regards her with stunned disapproval. “…One and a half months, then. Maybe. I’ll have to pull a lot more shifts.”

“Good, get it done.”

She bristles. “I really don’t like you being my boss while we’re in bed.”

Rio snorts, smirk wicked.

“I’m always your boss in bed, darlin.”

Her jaw drops open with a scoff.

“Screw you.”

He grins and she makes to move away stroppily, but he pulls her back then starts undoing the buttons on her jacket.

He lifts her by the ass so she’s on her knees and Beth finds herself not resisting, losing her breath as he pushes open the flannel of her pajama jacket then noses over her skin. She gives him a look that warns – she can’t come again. He nods almost imperceptibly before darting forward to take her breast into his mouth.

He kisses, sucks and nibbles, one hand working at the other, and Beth’s lost in the paradise of his hot worshipping mouth, her hand at his neck anchoring him to her. An involuntary whimper escapes her lips at a particularly rough suck and Rio quickly swaps his ministrations, giving her other breast the same treatment as he kneads at her ass. She thinks she could lose herself in his mouth and hands for days; weeks.

Finally, when both her nipples feel raw and over-sensitive, she pulls him away and to her mouth instead.

Her toes curl at the way he nips at her lips.

It makes it hard to pull away, but finally she does, dropping the jacket from her shoulders so she’s entirely naked. He smiles, pleased, then pulls her down for two hard final kisses that make her blush.

To hide it, she turns away to switch off her lamp. Rio switches his off too.

She pulls the sheet over them then settles on her side. Despite the room being filled with darkness, she can still see his eyes gleaming at her; the hard lines of his chest.

So, sucking her lip into her mouth, she reaches over.

Beth starts just under the shoulder furthest from her, tracing first an E then an L and an I. Each is about the size of her fingers and she keeps going, following the curve of his collar, till she’s reached his other shoulder.

“_Elizabeth_,” she finishes with a flourish. “How do you feel about comic sans?”

“I feel like I suddenly got a deathly allergy to ink.”

She giggles.

Then: “One day you’re going to tell me about all your tattoos.” She moves her hand up to his throat. “Especially this one.”

“Cool. On _this_ day, we gonna go to sleep.”

He closes his eyes but then his hand is on her, beginning to shove, and she’s not really sure what he wants until she realises he’s bringing her closer, and she pinks as she obliges, shifting closer. But he doesn’t stop, keeps pushing, and eventually there’s nowhere left to go but right against him. He tugs her just a little more and she settles firmly against his body, hitching a leg over his.

Finally he seems satisfied, his shoving hand settling on her ass as she studies the feeling of her soft curves pressed to his angular lines. It’s the first time they’ve ever slept this close and there’s something severe about him even in his relaxed state, Beth realises. Like he always has to be razor-sharp; angular, fierce; perched and ready, like the bird at his throat.

She hesitates for a moment before softly laying her head down. Just under his shoulder, right where the T would go, then she crooks her elbow to lay her hand over the invisible B, right over his heart.

* * *

For the next few days, Beth buries herself in her work.

She’d asked Rio to text her when he lands safely in Richmond and he does, but otherwise she doesn’t hear from him.

On the third day, antsy, she texts to ask if everything’s going ok. A few hours later, his response finally comes: a thumbs up.

She stares at her phone for a prolonged moment then decides to shake it off, going back to sifting through resumés and browsing through office furniture catalogues.

* * *

“What, I don’t get invited to brunch no more?”

Beth jumps, turning as a very familiar figure approaches them in the café, dressed head to toe in black.

“Rio, what are you doing here?”

His glance at her is too quick for her to read him, and he pulls up a chair and seats himself as casually as if he had, in fact, been invited. As if he hadn’t been out of town for four days and this is just now the first time she’s seeing him.

All three women stare at him, but Beth’s the only one wondering why he won’t look at her.

“Got a job for you ladies to pull.”

Beth frowns. “To _pull_ or do?”

He shrugs in that annoying way he has.

“Said what I said.”

Both Annie and Ruby’s eyes go to her and she knows she’s supposed to ask more questions, but she’s not used to the cold shell anymore and now everything about him is throwing her off.

“Need us to rob an enemy grocery store?” Annie half-jokes.

“Naw, easier than that.”

Ruby’s brow jumps up. “Ok, so what is it?”

He opens his mouth, but right then the waiter comes around.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“He’ll have tea,” Beth answers then waves the man away, intent to hear whatever it is Rio’s about to say.

There’s a pit in the bottom of her stomach and the faster she’s able to label it, the better.

“It’s a home job. Need sum’n from a safe.”

Immediately, Beth puts two and two together: “There’s someone in the house.”

“Yea.”

Both Annie and Ruby look repelled, but Beth stays calm. There is still worse coming, she knows.

“So now we need to take a hostage?”

“Ain’t that what you did at the grocery store?”

“Yeah, and look how well that worked out,” Annie groans.

“What do you need from the safe?” Beth presses.

“Just some documents.”

“Look,” Annie sits forward, clearing her throat as she spreads her hands diplomatically, “not to bring this up again, but do you _really_ not have anyone better for the job?”

He shakes his head.

“You the best.”

“Ok, great, thanks for explaining that so thoroughly,” Annie complains, collapsing back in her chair with a sigh.

“When do we need to do it?” Ruby asks.

“Five. Tonight.”

The girls’ eyes jump to her as hers go to him.

“That’s incredibly short notice.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be home in time to run the lil people a bath,” he smirks, sitting back as his tea arrives.

They wait for the waiter to leave before Beth zeroes in.

“Is that really the only information you’re going to give us?” she asks, forcing her tone to be as cool as his.

“I’ll give you everythin else you need to know later.”

“Later?”

“Yea, when I bring the guns.”

“The guns?” Ruby blurts out, almost too loudly.

“Yea, Imma need you to use real ones this time.”

Now all three of them exchange glances.

She turns her gaze back on him. “Why?”

“'Cuz I said so.”

All three of them do some version of sighing and rolling their eyes, Beth even more annoyed because she knows she’s going to get an earful as soon as Rio leaves.

He takes a casual sip of his tea then looks up at them.

“One more thing.”

“We also have to perform a blood sacrifice?” Annie jokes.

He stares at her for a second, just the tiniest bit amused, before regarding all three of them again.

“You gotta bring a daughter.”

“W-what?” Ruby sputters.

“You’re joking,” Beth glares.

“I ain’t picky about which one. Y’all figure that out amongst yourselves, yea?”

With that he slips out of his seat and he’s at the door already when it occurs to her to move; go after him.

“Rio!” she calls.

She’s in the doorway and he’s five steps out.

He freezes then turns slowly as she approaches.

“What the hell is going on?”

He looks away with a sigh then meets her head on.

“Look, the mark’s crazy paranoid. Only people she opens her door for is kids. We got two options: Halloween or Girl Scouts. Since it ain’t October…”

“You really expect us to take one of our children into a house we’re robbing _with real guns_?”

He hesitates for a moment before coming closer.

“You trust me?”

She freezes.

The last time he’d asked her that, it had been a lot easier to answer. A lot less complicated. Now the question feels loaded.

She doesn’t know whether he means in a personal or professional capacity, and she isn’t even sure whether those answers are any different.

She isn’t sure what the answer is.

He stares at her for a few long seconds as she looks up at him silently. He nods a little then turns away.

“I gotta go.”

She says nothing, doesn’t stop him. She simply stares as he walks away and leaves her in a cloud of uncertainty that should be familiar to her by now, but instead feels alien; new.


	2. Loaded

Gregg’s just left.

Annie’s in a state, pacing her living room wildly as Ruby sits on the sofa with her leg nervously jumping and Beth sets motionless, staring into nothing.

Emma’s watching cartoons in Sadie’s room.

Beth had refused for Sara to get involved. She knew the choice would’ve broken Ruby and, besides, she feels somehow responsible.

She and Rio are some weird package deal now; she’s accountable for him. She’d known it from the way the girls had looked at her when he’d told them about this job. And she knows it now because even as she sits, hating him for the position he’s put her in, she knows she can’t walk away. For once, the job isn't just about fearing him; about him being her boss. Now it’s something much more.

_You trust me? _he’d asked, and Beth still has no idea.

But she knows if she doesn’t do this then she may as well forget about all the progress they’d made, all the promises he’d made.

_Imma keep you safe, Elizabeth. I ain’t lettin no one put a hand on you._

Safe. God. He’d been right the first time – there’s nothing safe about them; nothing reliable. Any given moment is an opportunity for the rug to be wrenched out from under her. 

He’s a liar. He’d said they could stop spinning and now here she is, feeling like she’s going to hurl.

But none of that is the worst of it. The worst part is that she’s so scared he’ll leave again. Seeing him walk away from her in that dealership had planted the seed, and over the last four days of him being gone it had taken root. He can just leave again, whenever he wants. Leaving them all – leaving her – with nothing. And she wants him to stay so badly.

Which is why she has to do this. Why it has to be her daughter. Why she’s a horrible human being and mother.

She’s so scared he’ll disappear from her life again, like none of it ever happened.

He wouldn’t have put such a tight deadline on this unless it was urgent, and though she doesn’t know for sure that their brand new relationship hinges on this one job, she does know that he’d barely been able to look at her in that café. There’s _something _about this job. Beth can’t figure it out, everything’s happening too fast, but something is wrong, and it sets fear alight in her stomach like gasoline.

So she’d volunteered Emma. But when, with a throat full of guilt, she’d pitched the idea, her darling daughter had danced around in excitement. She’d forgotten that Emma had been asking her intermittently for weeks when she could join the Girl Scouts, but then the lie had come easily – that this is a sort of audition.

Thank god for Sadie, who had finally managed to calm Emma down enough for them to watch TV together before Gregg had come to fetch his son for the weekend.

Now, instead of guilt, Beth is all filled up with worry.

There's _something _about this job.

“I just don’t understand why _we _have to do it,” Ruby breaks the silence.

Equally as annoyed, Annie scoffs. “We the Best Music, remember?”

“Like, what if she won’t give us the combination for the vault? Does he think we can crack that?”

“Yeah, I looked up a YouTube tutorial, and the main lesson was that you can’t learn how to crack a safe from one YouTube tutorial.”

“And why does it _have_ to be tonight? He couldn’t have given us some time to scope out the place? Also, Stan’s making burgers tonight.”

“Stan makes some good burgers,” Annie nods understandingly.

“And what’s with the gun thing? Like excuse me, _sir_, but we’ve successfully robbed three – count ‘em, three – places with toy guns and it’s been _fine_.”

Except Beth knows. Rio doesn’t do anything without a reason.

Their mark owns a gun, too. It’s the only explanation for why he’s forcing them to take in real ones.

“Mansplaining robberies to us,” Annie rolls her eyes.

“When last has _he_ held up a joint?”

“This is the problem with upper management. They forget what it’s like to be the little guys.”

“All he does is wave his gold gun around in our faces and–”

“Beth?”

Beth forces herself to zone back in as Annie calls her name again.

“Hello, earth to Beth?”

She registers her sister finally standing still and Ruby looking at her with intense concern.

“Yes, what?”

“Are you ok?”

“Honey, I know you’re worried–”

“I’m fine,” she forces a smile.

Primarily, she needs them to think she’s in control. If she can fool them then she can fool Emma and their mark.

But she also knows Ruby is feeling guilty for not volunteering Sara and she doesn’t want her to. Despite what Rio had said, there was no version of this where it wasn’t one of Beth’s daughters who came along. She knows that. He _must’ve_ known that.

“Are you sure?” Annie asks.

“I’m not sure about anything right now.”

She watches Ruby and Annie exchange glances and then her sister speaks up.

“Not to bring this up again, but don’t you think now might be a good time to tell Rio?”

“About?”

“The FBI,” Ruby points out.

Stricken, Beth fully focuses again for the first time.

“Why would we do that?”

“So he’ll realise that this is insane?!”

“Yeah,” Annie agrees. “Maybe if he knows Spert’s on our trail, he’ll reconsider.”

“Right. And then he’ll just say ‘Never mind, forget about it; enjoy the night off’. You know, like that time he told us to kill Boomer while he was in protective custody.”

This makes them both go silent, no doubt remembering waiting in that godforsaken motel room.

“And I’m sure he’ll have _no _problem with the fact that we haven’t told him before now.”

“Well, more you than _we_, but…”

Beth glares at her sister, and to her credit she does look a bit shamefaced.

“No. We can’t tell him, not now.”

Ruby pulls a face.

“Guess you’re sure about something after all.”

“Why does it always have to be about lying to our boss?” Annie groans.

Before Beth can answer, there’s a rough knock on the door.

She takes a shaky breath then rises from the sofa, feeling a little unsteady on her feet. Still, as Annie heads to open the door, she forces herself to get a grip. She can do this.

Rio steps in and their eyes meet for a blinding second before they both look away.

“Where’s the kid?”

“Emma’s in the other room,” Annie answers.

“Cool.”

He reaches behind his back and produces three pistols. From his pocket he pulls three round black objects that she recognises as silencers.

Her heart feels like it’s in her throat. This is really happening.

“They mostly for show, but they _are_ loaded,” he warns.

With a nod, they each take one of each and then he hands her a folded piece of paper.

“Everythin else you need to know.”

Beth looks at him then at it.

“Where do we meet you afterwards?”

“The playground. 6pm.”

“What if… what if something goes wrong?” Ruby asks.

He purses his lips. “Don’t let it. Here,” he hands Annie a bag.

From it, she pulls a Girl Scouts outfit. Beth’s eyes go from it to his face, silently begging him to say that he’s changed his mind; she doesn’t have to do this.

He looks away.

“Good luck, ladies.”

And just like that, he’s gone.

* * *

The car is silent, save for Emma blowing bubbles with her spit.

Beth had tried turning the music on, but that had only made her feel her insides compress even further.

“Beth–”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Him, then?”

“Him I _definitely_ don’t want to talk about.”

More silence fills the car before Emma gasps.

“Did Mommy tell you, aunty Ruby?”

“Tell me what?” Ruby puts on an excited voice.

“I get to try out to be a Girls Scout!”

“That’s so awesome!”

“I’m gonna be just like Sara one day!”

Ruby grins back at Emma before turning back around, her smile slowly fading.

“You look so adorable, sweetie,” Beth smiles back at her daughter.

They’d had to do some tucking in and folding over of sleeves, but otherwise the outfit fits well. Beth had had some cookies in the back of her cupboard and now they’re two minutes away from the house, trepidation clouding over her head darker and darker as they grow closer.

All three of them are watching for anyone following them. She isn’t overly worried – Rio had given them barely any lead time, meaning they’d had no time to act at all suspicious. So unless today happens to be one when Spert is able to follow them everywhere, Beth feels optimistic that the FBI agent isn't following. Still, it doesn’t hurt to be too careful.

The address Rio gave her is in an affluent part of town. And not just affluent, but well-respected. Attorneys live here. She’s pretty sure her children’s principal lives here. And it didn’t escape her that Rio had asked them to steal documents, not money or jewels.

She has absolutely no idea what she’s walking into, with her child right beside her.

* * *

She pulls up.

The house is small but modern. There are cameras everywhere. Beth swallows.

She makes eye contact with first Ruby then Annie, silently asking them whether they remember the plan. They both nod.

She turns to Emma. “Ok, sweetie, you ready?”

Emma grins and undoes her seatbelt, practically hopping. Her excitement is as palpable as Beth’s fear.

“Mommy, how many cookies do I have to sell?”

“What do you mean?”

“So the Girl Scouts think I’m good enough?”

God. She’d almost forgotten about her own lie.

“Oh, um, that doesn’t matter, sweetie. It’s all about how nice you are, ok? Just be really nice and remember your pleases and thank yous.” She checks her watch. It’s 5:05pm. “Ok, let’s go.”

She climbs out then collects her daughter from the backseat, making sure to avoid eye contact with Annie. If she thinks about anything she’s doing for even a second longer, she’s scared she might break down.

Emma slots her hand into hers and they carefully make their way across the street and to the gate.

Beth rings it and the reply is immediate: “What.”

Beth’s trying to think up something to offer this acidic greeting, but Emma is way ahead of her: “Cookiessss!”

There’s a buzz and the gate opens. Beth swallows then pushes it open, letting Emma through before kicking a small stone into the way so it won’t lock behind her.

They go up the short walkway then knock on the door.

Emma smiles sweetly, swaying from side to side as if she’s aware that there’s someone very grumpy on the other side watching them.

Finally the door opens.

On the other side stands a lady half Beth’s size and nearly twice her age, her cinnamon skin folded into itself, especially at her frown lines.

“And what’s your name?” she asks, not even bothering to give Beth the time of day.

“Emma,” Emma sweetly offers. “Do you wanna buy some cookies, ma’am?”

“I sure do. Do you have Thin Mints?”

“Yeah!”

“Ok, let me get my purse, come on in.”

Beth steps in behind her daughter, her hand going behind her back. She knows that Annie and Ruby are right behind her. Her glance shoots wildly around, trying to figure out how to do this.

Thankfully the woman crosses to behind a table. Not allowing herself a moment to think, Beth follows and pulls the gun out, pressing it into the woman’s back.

“Don’t try anything. Pretend everything is fine.”

The woman stiffens but, after a second of hesitation, continues fidgeting.

“Oh, where did I put it?”

Emma stands and waits dutifully, and behind her come Annie and Ruby, closing the front door behind them. Beth is about to ask them to take Emma into another room when suddenly small footsteps enter and a girl not seven years old blinks at the room full of people.

They all freeze as she turns to the older woman.

“Gammy, pleeeeease no Thin Mints.”

Beth feels like her heart freezes over then jolts into overdrive.

“Who’s this?” she asks, hoping it’s only to her own ears that her voice sounds strangled.

“My granddaughter, Hailey.”

“Ok, well, Hailey, why don’t you go in the other room with Emma and see which cookies _you’d_ like?”

The other two finally seem to defrost too and Ruby nods.

“Yeah, come on, I’ll go with you two.”

Hailey doesn’t even hesitate. She immediately follows Ruby and Emma into a room off to the right, allowing Annie to come closer and pull out her gun too.

“Ok, grandma, put your hands up and come out from behind the table.”

“My name is Louise. And you’re making a very grave mistake.”

Beth clears her throat. “_Louise_. Listen. We don’t want to hurt you. Once we get what we want, we’ll leave.”

“Then take it and go.”

Annie grins. “Sure thing. As soon as you open your safe.”

Louise looks slowly from the one to the other, things seeming to click into place.

“So that’s what this is about.”

“Where is it?”

The old woman hesitates and Beth rams the gun into her back harder.

She grimaces, then: “It’s in the study.”

“Lead the way.”

* * *

It’s not far and as soon as they get outside, Annie enters ahead of them.

“Where’s your gun?” Beth asks the woman.

“What gun?”

“Do _not_ make me shoot you.”

Louise sighs. “Under the desk.”

“Under the desk!” Beth calls in.

Two seconds pass before Annie calls back that she got it.

Beth pushes and the two head inside. Annie’s taking down a painting.

“You should really hide your safe better, lady,” she points out.

Beth rolls her eyes as she scans the room. It’s a tiny study, with not all that many places _to _hide a safe, but it’s finished in mahogany. It’s clear that Louise, whatever she does, makes good money but hasn’t spent it on furnishing her home. It’s all gone to security, an impressive neighbourhood and, well, cookies.

Annie huffs as she lowers the painting to the ground and all their eyes go up to the safe behind it. It’s bigger than your average hotel room safe and in that precise second, Beth has a moment of crystal-clear clarity: There is no way this woman is going to give them the combination to her safe.

Something tells her to turn around and just there, right beside the doorframe, is a picture of Louise. She’s sitting on an expensive-looking desk in a huge wooden room.

And she’s wearing a judge’s robe.

Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hides*


	3. Elizabeth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, I know, I'm sorry!

“Alright, so what’s the combination?” Annie asks, antsy.

Beth considers telling her what she already knows, but it’ll only make everything a hundred times worse. She already feels like she’s going to faint.

“You can take anything of value in the house,” Louise says calmly, “go ahead. But I’m not giving you the combination.”

Annie’s eyes go to Beth and she’s not sure what she sees – a white sheet, probably – but they quickly go back to Louise as she whips her gun back out.

“Lady, do not mess with us.”

“Killing me doesn’t get you the combination.”

Desperately, Annie looks toward her older sister and Beth steps forward with a breath.

There’s only one play. The one Rio wanted them to make. Wanted _her _to make.

That’s clear to her now, too, even with her head spinning.

“You know,” Beth starts, trying to keep her voice steady, “you have a beautiful granddaughter. How old is she, six?”

Fire lights behind Louise’s eyes. Beth recognises it. She’s seen it in her own eyes.

“Yes. Six.”

“That’s very young to die. Especially for something as silly as a few numbers.”

Louise’s eyes go to the safe then back to Beth, her resolve shaking just a little bit. But then she lifts her chin.

“You won’t do it. That Emma in there? She’s yours, I can see. You’re a mother. You’re not going to kill a little girl.”

Beth grits her teeth. “There’s nothing in this world I want to do less. But we are _opening that safe_.”

Louise stares back at her, both of them sizing the other up, for a few long moments.

They’re wasting time. Every second is a second closer to someone noticing the empty car outside or the unsecure front gate. To someone visiting – a maid or the little girl’s mother, maybe.

Pressing her lips together, she pulls out her phone and dials Ruby.

“…Hello?” Ruby answers hesitantly.

“Bring in the girl.”

“But–”

“Do it.”

She ends the call and she can feel Annie’s eyes on her, questioning, but she doesn’t turn around. Instead, when they hear footsteps approach, they both put their guns away just before Hailey bursts into the room, Ruby behind her.

“Gammy, can we have the peanut butter ones?”

She’s practically hopping with boundless energy, just like Emma had been not an hour ago. Beth moves over a little so she’s right behind the little girl, who’s begging Louise for cookies and completely unaware of anything else happening around her.

Going for her gun again, Beth feels something inside her die. She takes a soft step back then lifts her hand, the silencer a few inches away from the little girl’s head.

She bites her lip, willing herself not to cry.

Her expression is mirrored in Louise’s, who is trying to field her granddaughter’s pleas and Beth’s threat at once.

“Yes; ok! Fine!”

“Yayyyy!” Hailey starts doing a little dance and with a sharp breath, Beth re-places her weapon as the girl pivots then runs out, back to the cookies.

Just before Ruby follows, Beth catches the look on her face. It’s a mix of horror and disgust.

Behind her, Annie clears her throat. “That combination?”

“7-4-9-0-7-2.”

“Thank you.”

A few weighted seconds pass before the safe audibly clicks open. Beth feels relief spread through her body, overtaking the numb. She’s shaking; she thinks she’ll collapse if she stops.

Annie takes the paper Rio had given them then immediately goes about finding the right files inside the safe.

“I hope it’s worth it. Hope he’s paying you well,” Louise says lowly, staring acidically at Beth.

“Trust me,” she breathes. “It may look like I’m the one with the gun, but I’m not.”

Their eyes meet, and for a second understanding passes between them, like Louise knows exactly what she means.

“Ok, I got them all,” Annie says.

She passes the paper back to Beth, who goes over to the computer and starts typing in all the necessary passcodes, then follows the page’s instructions as Annie keeps her gun trained on Louise. It gets her to the security footage from the cameras and she quickly deletes it all then deletes the backups and empties the bin. Lastly, she shuts off all the cameras. Then she stands, getting her gun back out as she nods at her sister.

Annie finds the rope they’d brought and ties Louise to a chair.

It’s only when she’s all done and they’re ready to leave when Beth bends to meet the old woman’s wise eyes.

“You know who we work for?”

“I do.”

“Then you also know what will happen to you and your granddaughter if you say anything to anyone about what happened here today?”

She must have worked out the same thing Beth had: there is nothing unplanned about this. To the most minute detail, everything had been considered; had been on that page. Besides the combination itself, that page had known everything about this woman and her life. It’s no stretch to think they could take it just as easily.

There’s pure poison in the woman’s eyes and Beth doesn’t blame her, not for a second.

“I do.”

“Good.” Beth swallows. “I really am very sorry.”

* * *

“Mommy, can I hold my breath?”

“Tomorrow night, ok?”

Her cellphone starts ringing and she dries her hands on the bath towel with a sigh before reaching for the phone.

“Just wash up, ok, Jane?”

With that she moves to the far side of the bathroom to answer the call.

“It’s done,” says Annie.

“Good. No problems?”

“Nope.” There’s a second of silence, then: “He asked about you, in case you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t wondering.”

“Ok.” More silence. “Ruby says there may be some extra burgers for us.”

“I’m good. I have to get back to Jane in the bath. See you.”

“Ok, um… night.”

Beth ends the call. The last thing in the world she wants right now is to be around other people. Besides, if she’s not there then Annie and Ruby are free to discuss how far down the rabbit hole she’s fallen.

“Mommy, where’s Drew?” Jane asks.

Pasting on a smile, she turns to find the rubber duck before remembering that Drew had taken a deep dive and is now probably filled with water and anchored at the bottom of the tub.

“I’ll be right back, ok? Mommy’s just gonna take off her watch. _Do not_ go underwater.”

And after Jane’s nodded solemnly, Beth leaves, rolling up her sleeves and taking off her watch. She opens her drawer, pops it into it, then freezes.

The card had slid forward when she opened the drawer and she reaches for it, the N inked dark into the snow-white card.

_I look forward to working together._

After a second she goes back to Jane, but she leaves the card up on top of her bedside table.

* * *

She’s so tired.

The shaking had taken her through getting the children fed, clean and into bed, but now it’s wearing off fast.

She thinks she could sleep for ten days straight. Thank god Dean is taking the kids tomorrow. Though that involves seeing him and she’s not sure how capable she is of coping with that right now.

Bourbon in hand, she’s about to climb under the covers when there’s a knock. It’s at the double doors that lead out onto the backyard.

She’s frozen, staring at them.

There’s another knock. It’s so different to the one at Annie’s place earlier today. Light, it asks for entry instead of demanding it.

Forcing herself, she moves quietly to the doors. They’re already locked, but she presses the latches into place that bolt them into the doorframe.

“Elizabeth.” It comes out as a sigh.

“Go away.”

She waits. He’s waiting too, she knows, but after a minute she hears his light footsteps move away and she allows herself a breath.

Discarding the glass of bourbon, she turns out all the lights, crawls under the blankets and cries until there is nothing left inside her but regret.

* * *

Beth wakes in the middle of the night.

She’s thirsty.

It takes her a second to realise that she’s probably severely dehydrated from all the crying, after which she reluctantly turns on the lamp and drags herself out of bed.

Chugging down water, she checks on the kids then heads back to her bedroom.

She rubs at her eyes as she checks her phone for messages. There are a few from Ruby and Annie, letting her know they’re thinking of her and then pictures of them eating burgers – in one, Harry has a burger up in front of each eye, which makes Beth smile – but she doesn’t respond. She’s too sleepy; she’ll try to remember to in the morning.

She’s about to place her phone back down and turn out the light when she sees it.

Nico’s card.

_So, what do you think? Want to take down Rio?_

Instantly she’s no longer groggy and without really meaning to, she picks it up.

Her heart’s beating fast; her mouth dry.

Behind her eyelids, she sees him walk away from her. Sees his guarded eyes as he turns his back; walks out Annie’s door.

_Good luck, ladies._

She blinks, several times, trying to get rid of it.

But she can’t. He’d left her to figure it out all by herself, just like so many times before.

_I gave you the keys to the kingdom. But you didn’t want them. _

_I’m gonna need you to take care of him._

_I don’t work well on vacation. _

_Do what you do._

Beth dials.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 😯😯😯


	4. Just the Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loved seeing all your reactions to the previous chapter, thank you so much! This one's relatively short, but it provides some much-needed explanations and context, as well as a bridge into the rest of the story :)

She’s laughing.

Ruby’s doing a skit and her sister is joining in and it’s hilarious. For the first time in too long, she’s laughing. Suddenly they both stop and stare at her.

“What?”

“Holy crap, she’s still in there,” Ruby gasps.

“We missed you!”

Annie tackles her with a hug that lasts approximately two seconds before they’re both rolling their eyes as Beth shoves her away.

“I’ve been here for an hour.”

“Yeah, but you’ve been this, like, _hollow android_ for the past week.”

Beth sighs heavily. “Can you blame me? You were there. You saw what I did.”

And then there’s Nico.

He hadn’t answered the night she’d called and she’d been petrified for the next few days as she awaited his return call. But it had never come, and gradually she’d thawed.

Either he’d been playing a game with her or he’d changed his mind and either way, Beth’s relieved. She’d been too emotional that night to think straight – now she knows that she needs less, not more. Less crime lords and more normalcy. Launching a second dealership in peace and, hopefully, diverting an FBI investigation.

She just wants to go back to feeling like there’s any sort of solid ground beneath her.

The two women exchange glances before Ruby comes to sit beside her so they’re flanking her on Annie’s couch.

“Look, it was messed up, sure,” Ruby nods. “But there wasn’t much of a choice. We all know that.”

“Yeah,” Annie agrees. “And it’s not like you were going to shoot that girl.”

“I would never.”

“We _know_,” Annie assures.

“Of course we do,” Ruby nods. “I mean, you had some real crazy-eyes action going on that scared the bejesus out of that poor woman, but we know you aren’t a killer, Beth. Especially not of six-year-olds, I mean, come on.”

Beth lets out a sigh of relief. “Thanks, guys. I love you.”

Strangely, Annie looks at her watch then nibbles on her lip nervously.

“Good. Remember that love, ok?”

“What do you mean?”

But before Annie can answer, there’s a knock at the door.

Beth gasps. “_No_.”

Suddenly she remembers her sister’s strange insistence that they meet here.

“I’m sorry and I’m your sister and I love you.”

She darts up to open the door and there stands Rio, eyes instantly training on Beth.

Annie makes eye contact with Ruby then gestures with her head. “_Vamoose_.”

“Oh, no!” Beth protests. “_No_.”

“Still sorry! Still love you! Let me know if I need to change the sheets when I get back!”

And just like that they’ve shut the door behind them and she’s left in Annie’s apartment with Rio.

Her first thought is to try and remember what she’s wearing, because he looks annoyingly good. Black jeans as usual, but with a dark red T-shirt beneath a leather jacket.

“Missed you,” he says lightly, leaning back against the door.

Not that he’d tried calling. Beth had waited for it but, just like with Nico, eventually she’d stopped. So much for _Better two gangfriends than zero_.

“The girls have been taking care of business,” she says, stilted.

She’d still been behind the scenes, of course, but she’d let go of everything that involved seeing or speaking to him. She’s had more than enough else to keep her busy, what with getting the second dealership set up. The furniture is ordered, as are the cars, and she’s nearly finished with the first round of interviews.

“Yeah,” Rio nods, “I noticed.”

Uncomfortable beneath his gaze, she stands up, brushing herself off and heading towards the kitchen. Annie better have some good booze around here somewhere.

He follows. Of course he follows.

“What, you tryna punish me?”

She shoots him a dirty look before turning to rummage through her sister’s cabinets.

“Is that even possible?” she retorts, glad to have her back turned on him.

“Whatchu want from me, Elizabeth?”

She turns back to him now with a scoff.

“To stop pretending, for one. Don’t act like you didn’t know exactly what you were doing, not telling me about that little girl in there. That’s why you couldn’t look at me in the café. You don’t actually expect me to think that you knew every single passcode to that place, but not that her granddaughter would be visiting at 5pm?”

He stares at her for a few moments, his arms folded.

“I knew.”

“Just like you knew I wouldn’t be ok with it. Just like you knew I wouldn’t be ok with taking one of my children into a job. But you didn’t care about any of that, did you?”

Her voice had risen and now her chest is rising and falling. In comparison, he’s serene; the eye of the storm as usual.

“Was a job. Had to be done.”

She laughs bitterly. “Well, then, job done.”

He looks off to the side, as if gathering his wits, then steps forward a little, so they’re only separated by the island.

“Would it’ve been better if I’d warned you?”

“What would have been _better _is if I didn’t have to hold a gun to the head of a _six year old_!”

Rio’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows heavily. Then he shrugs. “Had to be done. She only got the one weakness.”

“God, are you really not disgusted by yourself?” Beth spits. “You have _a son_!”

He snaps.

“You don’t get it, do you?!” he yells, voice gruff. “Those documents you stole? They was key in getting Schiller locked up. I sent you ‘cuz it was the only way I _could_ guarantee that lil girl makin it out alive!”

“W-what?" She takes a step back, stunned. "It was for Schiller?”

“They were gonna send his ass to jail. He needed me to make it go away.”

She blinks, not knowing what to say. Rio lifts his chin.

“Ain’t this whatchu wanted? Me thinkin ‘bout your best interests and all?”

“And this was in my best interest??” she scoffs.

“You ain’t that slow, Elizabeth, catch up.”

She stares hard at him and when he speaks again, his tone isn’t quite as cold and merciless.

“I do what I gotta do, always. And this shit we needed to do.”

With a light scoff she turns away, trying to process.

“You know what happens when an empire don’t have its benefactor no more?”

“We could’ve survived,” she points out, but it’s barely a retort.

She doesn’t actually know that. There’s a huge part of Rio’s business that she never deals with. That, really, she has no idea about. All she actually knows is what she does, combined with his speech about flipping his game. He’d never even truly admitted to being part of a syndicate.

He always keeps her in the dark so he’s the only one who knows everything, always. He’s in charge, always.

“It ain’t just about the money.”

His tone is finally completely even again and she looks at him.

“What do you mean?”

He rolls his shoulders. “For every player under him he rolls on, he gets less time. That’s how they dismantle the whole thing, mami. He goes down, we go down with him. He a vindictive son of a bitch, too.”

She stares at him for a second more, then looks away again.

In the silence he slowly rounds the counter to stand in front of her, but she doesn’t look up; won’t meet his eyes.

“You right," he admits with a breath. "This ain’t one I’m proud of. But if I’d sent my boys, I don’t know if the judge or the girl woulda made it out alive, and that’s just the truth.”

Beth hesitates then looks up. She realises they’re closer than she’d thought.

Her glance sticks on his lips for a moment too long before she makes it up to his eyes.

“I don’t forgive you.” The words hang in the air for a long moment as she draws in a breath; expands her lungs. “But you’re my business partner – I’ll stop avoiding you.”

Rio stares at her for a few protracted seconds, absorbing.

Then: “That’s it?”

_That’s what I am? Work?_

_Pretty much, yeah._

_That’s it?_

_That’s it. _

Beth swallows.

“That’s it.”

* * *

“You’re lazy!”

“Ok, that’s so not fair! It has nothing to do with it – you two needed to talk!”

“Ruby!”

Ruby was giggling but she stops at Beth’s plea for help.

“Ok, Beth, I’ll be real: You were moping and avoiding and _something_ had to get you out of it. But Annie, your ass _is_ lazy as hell.”

Beth bursts into triumphant laughter as Annie looks incredibly offended.

“You should be _thanking me, sis,_ for taking care of it all while you went through your shame spiral.”

“I think you mean _we _took care of things?” Ruby points out.

“Sure, but _I’m_ the one who had to deal directly with gangfriend, and let me tell you,” she glares at Beth, “that _bundle of joy_ he normally is? Multiply it by approximately _a thousand_ when you two are on the outs.”

Beth scoffs. “Do I have to point out how long _I’ve_ been doing it for?”

“Oh, you’ve been _doing it_, alright,” Annie smirks, before breaking out into sex noises.

Beth looks away sharply and, as per usual, Ruby reads her like a book.

“...Did you two _make up _make up?”

She clears her throat. “Everything is good. We’re back on track and that’s all that matters.”

“Sure, but is your… _thing_ back on track?”

“Meaning is _his thing_ back on _your track_?” Annie wriggles her eyebrows.

Beth clears her throat again, pulling away from the counter.

“I should go. Kenny has swim practice and I’ve already been late twice.”

“That’s in, like, an hour,” Annie points out.

“Gotta beat traffic. Let yourselves out, ok?”

Grabbing her handbag, she beelines her way out.

* * *

He doesn’t show up.

Not at swim practice, not in the pickup line, not in her backyard.

He texts or calls – always curt – when he needs something, he informs her about deliveries, but he never shows up.

She hasn’t seen him in two weeks.

A part of her is glad and feels respected.

A much bigger part of her misses him.

Every single second that her mind is free, he occupies it. And every time her phone goes off and it’s him, she wishes it wouldn’t just be about work.

But it is. It always is and it feels like a part of herself is missing.

And, remembering that day she'd stolen the chapstick, a thought begins to dislodge. It sits uneasy, an irremovable weight atop her chest: maybe the business, crime, isn’t the only thing she needs in her life.

It starts as a thought then morphs, snowballs, into a truth. A truth that rises to the surface and grows heavier with each passing breath; each passing moment he remains absent.

But she doesn’t know what to do about it.

She can’t just forget what he’d done. What he’d made her do. When she closes her eyes at night, she still sees her own hand holding a gun to that little girl’s head. A silencer right between her braids. Louise’s eyes looking at her with hatred and disgust.

For as long as she lives, she'll remember that moment.

But she also remembers what Rio had said. That sending her had been his way of saving the girl. And she had. No one had been hurt and they’d gotten the documents. Everything had worked out.

But isn’t that just what she’s telling herself so she can see him again?

Round and around she goes, rationalising and then tearing it apart and landing absolutely nowhere, because at the end of the day he’d still made her point a gun at a child and she still misses him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know your thoughts 👀 Were Rio's actions justified? Should Beth have forgiven him?


	5. It's Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your thoughts on the last one and I'm intrigued to know whether this one will change any of your minds or not ;)

“Will you _please _just talk to Rio?”

Beth looks up at Ruby from where she’d been staring into her tea.

“What? Why? We’re fine. It’s fine.”

“_Oh, please_,” Annie rolls her eyes.

“Business is going great. What’s the problem?”

“The problem is you!” Annie exclaims. “You’ve been down in the dumps for weeks and it’s moved beyond annoying and straight into pathetic.”

“_Annie_,” Ruby chastises. Then she sighs. “Beth, it’s just not healthy. Admit that you’re still pissed at him, but you can’t invite the guy over for Monopoly _with our kids _and then pretend he’s just a coworker who slipped and fell into you. We’ve spoken about this – it was obvious that you care about him, and now it’s obvious that you miss him.”

Beth meets Ruby’s eyes and remembers the other discussion they’d had about Rio.

_Sure, you’re giddy now, but what about two, three months down the line? A mystery is really sexy till you’re dating it._

Does Ruby think differently now? Why? When she’d been proven completely right? Had Beth really been that bad these last few weeks? God.

She worries about the kids; about how they’d been affected. She tries to think back, but all she remembers is work. She’d thrown herself into it, pulling double and triple shifts; sometimes letting Dean keep the kids for longer than he should’ve. It’s been fruitful – she doesn’t think a launch is all that far off. But now she realises she hadn’t been present for all of it – mentally, she’d been elsewhere. She’d checked out and her children had suffered and god, is there any other way she can prove to be a worse mother?

Committing to spending more time with them when they get back tomorrow, Beth shakes her head.

“This is for the best. There’s no drama, money is good–”

“Yeah, and you’re just basically depressed a hundred percent of the time,” Annie rolls her eyes again.

Beth shifts, uncomfortable. Depressed isn’t accurate. (Not that accuracy is ever a reasonable expectation for her sister to meet.) She just hadn’t been… well, mindful.

She clears her throat. “I just need to move on, that’s all.”

“How’s that going for you?” Ruby deadpans with a raised brow.

Frustrated, Beth’s voice rises.

“What do you expect me to do here?! I mean, isn’t this the best outcome anyway, all things considered??” _That guy, as funny and charming as he is, spells trouble_. “Or are you – both – saying that the best course of action here is _pursue _the relationship with a career criminal?”

Silence settles heavy as this seems to finally give them pause.

Finally, Ruby heaves a huge sigh.

“Ok, do I like the guy? No. Do I think he’s going to wake up one day and spontaneously decide to murder us all? _Yes_. But, Beth... I’ve also known you longer than I’ve known anyone else, and I’ve _never _seen you this messed up about a guy.”

“That’s… not true,” Beth scoffs, but it’s pathetic even to her own ears.

“It is,” Ruby points out. “You don’t participate in conversations anymore. We literally just had to talk about Rio to get you to hear anything we were saying.”

Beth opens her mouth, but she doesn’t have a comeback for that.

“Yeah and, besides, he’s not the _worst _criminal in the world you could date. I mean, he’s not Ted Bundy?”

Ruby gives Annie a sidelong glance. “_That’s _the standard you’re gonna set?”

“And you haven’t liked a single guy I’ve liked my whole life, but _this one_ you’re going to go to bat for?”

“That’s not true! I liked… what’s-his-name in the tenth grade, with the buck teeth!” Annie points out triumphantly, grinning.

Beth’s jaw dropped. “Gary? You liked him _for you_, you didn’t approve of him as my crush!”

“That totally still counts!”

“Oh my god.”

“I feel like we’re losing sight of the point here,” Ruby says.

“And what is the point?”

“You need to talk to him,” Ruby states. “For real, this time. There’s something on your chest – you know it and we know it. Get it off before it eats you alive. I’m not saying you two need to suck each other’s faces, but please just do whatever it is that’s gonna get me my best friend back.”

* * *

She steps out into her backyard.

For once he’s just standing near her table instead of sitting on top of it.

“Hey,” she breathes.

“What’s up? I don’t got long.”

Beth nears, forcing herself to keep breathing even though she’s become unused to having him in her proximity. It’s been so long – nearly a month. A month since she’d told him they were business partners and nothing else. The lost time seems to sit between them, gelatinous.

Beth decides to pretend as if it’s not there, taking him in in the near-dark. He’s wearing a coat and nice shoes, she notices; one of his cashmere sweaters.

“Are you going on a date or something?” she teases.

He smirks. “Yea, actually.”

“Oh.”

She’s frozen and even though she knows she has no right to have a reaction to that, she can’t seem to say anything or move.

He steps closer. “What didya wanna talk about?”

“Um, I just… it doesn’t matter. Don’t worry about it.”

“I came all the way out here for ‘It doesn’t matter’?”

Crap.

“It’s just, the girls said… and then… I’m not sure… none of us were thinking straight–” she cuts herself off with a throat clear, aware that she’s too flustered to form whole sentences.

He looks even smugger and she thinks the worst part, out of all of this, is that he’s clearly remembered how to put his walls up as solid as ever around her.

She steps closer so they’re an arm’s length away from each other.

From this angle, he’s fully illuminated, and she catalogues everything that has changed since she last saw him.

His beard is a little shorter. There’s a small wound scabbing over beneath his eye.

“I want to forgive you,” she blurts out.

His gaze burns.

“Ok.”

Beth swallows hard.

“But I don’t know how.”

He scans her face, taking a step toward her.

“Maybe I’m not the one you gotta forgive.”

And there it is. The problem with it all.

“What am I supposed to do here?” she snaps. “You keep putting me in these impossible situations!”

“_I’m_ the one doing that?”

She stares at him wordlessly, eyes filled with confusion.

“Who decided not to use _Ruby’s_ kid, huh?”

Her jaw drops.

“That’s-that’s not fair.”

He smiles with just the one side of his face, the way he does when something isn’t funny at all.

“Figured as much.” He looks away for a second, taking a breath. “Y’know, nobody got hurt. It’s over. We won. And the kid looked cute in that outfit. Why can’t you just let it go?”

She’s about to form a response to his question when the rest of what he said hits her.

“Wait. _What_? You were there?”

There’s no other time he could’ve seen Emma in her outfit, save for catching a glimpse of them as they’d left Annie’s apartment.

He smiles like he’s been caught out but doesn’t really mind too much.

“Yea. Had to look out for my girl.”

“What does that even mean?”

He shrugs. “Made you a promise, didn’t I? You took care of Marcus; I take care o’ your people.”

Beth stares at him, speechless. 

She’d completely forgotten about the low assurance he’d made to her in her kitchen that night: _You said you want your family safe. They safe, Elizabeth. You got my word. Ain’t nothin gonna happen to em while you with me._

Rio continues: “If the judge had seen me, it woulda been over, for all of us. But I was close, just in case.”

She continues staring, trying hard to figure him out.

So he’d asked her to take her daughter into an armed hostage situation… but he’d also come along to protect them in case anything happened?

Will she ever understand anything about him?

As if he can hear her thoughts, he speaks.

“I asked if you trusted me and you didn’t say nothin.”

Beth scoffs. “I didn’t know what to say.”

“So I proved that you could.”

She blinks.

“...How’s that?”

“All the info was good, wasn’t it? The passcodes? Everythin.”

“And you think that proves anything?”

He cocks his head with a frown, looking genuinely confused. It’s odd; out of place. He normally understands her too well.

Stepping closer, she decides to make it absolutely clear.

“You sent me into a retired judge’s house. I showed her my _face_,” she starts, her voice low and dangerous. “I held _a gun_ to _a judge’s head_ in broad daylight without wearing a mask. I took _my child_ in there. She could’ve seen me holding a gun, breaking into a safe or threatening a woman’s life. And then you made me threaten to _kill_ a six year old. And just like usual, you made me figure it all out for myself!”

_I’m gonna need you to do better._

_Yeah, I’m gettin that._

But it suddenly occurs to her – with all the terms she’d laid out, everything she’d asked him for, he’d not once actually verbally agreed. Had it been intentional? Had she really been that gullible; had that night been pure deceit? Or is it just that none of it mattered enough to him? That despite everything they’ve been through, in a choice between her and Schiller, she’d come last. She’ll always come last.

“You let me think we were a team when really I was just your lamb to the slaughter – again.”

God, she wishes she had another set of keys to launch at him.

“But, sure, the passcodes worked.”

There’s a beat of silence and his eyes are venomous now, mirrors of her own, but the words just keep coming.

“The only thing you proved is that there’s nothing that matters more to you than _your_ business.”

She makes sure to spit the word – she isn’t his partner and will never be, he’s made that very clear.

“Not my children, not our safety and definitely not me.”

Rio’s a statue, only his jaw moving, ticking, as he stares at her solidly.

Then, without a word, he turns and walks away.

* * *

Annie finishes packing the kid’s bag then passes it to Gregg.

“And you’re sure it’s fine?” he confirms.

“I said it was fine, so it’s fine.”

She still doesn’t really meet his eyes, but he forces her to come to a standstill and, begrudgingly, she tilts her head up then cocks a brow.

“Then what’s wrong?” he asks, unfazed by her attitude.

_You’re here_, she wants to point out.

Instead she says the second thing on her list of worries.

“I just haven’t heard from Beth in a while.”

“How long’s a while?”

“Since yesterday.”

“You really talk that often?” he grimaces, sceptical.

“It’s a group chat,” she glares.

“Ok,” he holds up his hands in surrender.

“It’s just that…” She sighs. “She was going to do something and it’s weird we haven’t heard back about it yet. Could be a good weird, but… I don’t know. There’s a feeling in my stomach.”

“Well, let me give you a ride there. It’s practically on the way.”

“I thought the whole point of Sadie staying an extra two nights was so you two could get more time together.”

“It’s five minutes, Annie.”

Five minutes too long stuck in a car with him.

“I’m good.”

“You’re sure?”

And she can tell by the look in his eyes that he knows exactly why she’s turning him down.

“Yes. Now please get out.”

He snorts. “Real classy. Ok,” he sighs. “Hope your sister’s ok.”

Annie watches him leave with a huff and folded arms. She hates how he’s able to get under her skin by doing absolutely nothing.

She gets out her phone to call Beth then stops.

If things had gone well with Rio, she’s probably unreachable because she doesn’t want to be disturbed. If things had gone badly, she doesn’t need Annie dumping more problems in her lap.

She’ll check in on her tomorrow. For now, she needs vodka.

* * *

“Real busy, Annie,” Ruby answers the phone, before shouting at Harry to stop running.

“Well then maybe answer your texts.”

“Does the word busy mean something different to you?”

She cradles the phone in her shoulder as she hops on one foot over to the fridge, avoiding the toys at her feet.

Things have been crazyyyy as she tries to get her business plans all prepped for Beth’s nightmare of a committee. She’d kept wanting to ask for tips but knew the second dealership was keeping her best friend busy, so instead Ruby had been trying to work it out on her own all while dealing with two kids who apparently need to act a fool as soon as Stan started working doubles covering for the _fools at work_ who all suddenly decided to get the flu.

“Aioiwjefleth?”

Ruby frowns. “_What_?”

“HAVE YOU SPOKEN TO BETH??”

“Oh. No. What are you _doing_?”

“Looking for something behind the couch,” Annie grumbles. “That’s not the point. Do you think we should be worried?”

Ruby manoeuvres the mac and cheese out from under the container of rice.

“Worried?”

“Yes, worried.”

“Annie, I’m gonna need you to be quick and specific because I am about two seconds away from either collapsing or tripping and falling to my death on a– HARRY, DO NOT!”

“Holy shit, my ear!”

“You _were saying_.”

“Look, never mind,” she sighs. “We’ll give her another day. Maybe they're just having alllll the make-up sex.”

“Uh huh, ok,” Ruby rolls her eyes, already mentally ending the call as she notices her dear son beginning to kick at the bottom of the coffee table he’s rolled under.

* * *

“God, I hate this place,” Annie mutters. “Hey, you!” she picks someone at random.

The dude is tall and lanky, drowning in the Boland Motors shirt, and she figures he knows nothing but, like, just enough of nothing?

“Where’s my sister?”

“Uhhh… your sister?”

Can she fucking pick them or what?

“Beth. Beth Boland. You know, the one who runs this whole place?”

He’s looking back at her like he’s trying real hard to remember how English works when suddenly a girl with an afro comes out of nowhere.

“You’re Annie, right?”

She recognises her now – she’s one of Rio’s drivers.

“_Yes_. Please tell me you know where my sister is. It’s her shift but I can’t find her anywhere.”

Her eyes widen. “I was going to ask if _you_ knew when she’s coming back in.”

Annie stares.

“…Meaning you haven’t seen her in a while?”

“Nearly four days,” she nods. “Mr Boland said something about her being sick and that he was keeping the children for a few more days – or something like that, it was mostly complaints,” she admits, brows furrowed as she tries to remember.

“He’s an imbecile, ignore 80% of what he says.”

“Well, that’s what he said. But he’s been looking more and more stressed every day and I don’t think anyone’s heard from Ms Boland.”

“You’re telling me _he’s _been running this place by himself for the past few days?”

The poor girl nods nervously, like she doesn’t want to say it but this is exactly what’s worrying her.

Annie frowns. It’s not like her sister to get sick – that’s one. But to leave the pill business completely in Dean’s hands, along with the kids? Plus there’s the second dealership she’d been working her ass off on.

That feeling in her stomach is officially a solidified mass of concern.

* * *

The house is shut tight.

Not a door or a window is open, and Annie curses her sister deciding to get a stupid new security system for the backyard.

Well. Guess it’s the old-fashioned way.

Grabbing a stone, she takes a quick look around before knocking in one of the lounge windows. She shatters the rest too then heaves her way inside with way too much effort. God, why isn’t she 20 anymore?

Her boots crunch over the mess she’s made, but she’s more disturbed by the fact that the kitchen looks untouched and the house smells like it’s been shut for days. This is no sex den – even her uptight sister wouldn’t do dishes if she had gangfriend waiting for her in her bedroom, right? And she’d definitely crack a window or let some damn light in.

Her worry ticks up several notches.

She takes only a few more looks around – seeing only more untouched spaces – before beginning to head to Beth’s bedroom.

There’s dread in her bones and by the time she gets to the door, she almost doesn’t want to open it, she’s so filled up with apprehension.

“Woman up,” she mutters to herself, before taking a huge gulp of a breath.

But, when Annie steps into the room, the dread shifts straight into realised horror.

Lips parted, she texts Ruby a 911.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was very strange and interesting writing from Ruby and Annie's POVs - I hope it was ok!


	6. The Sketchest Guys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SO sorry I've been gone for so long! Life suddenly got so hectic, but I've got an extra long chapter to make up for it xx

“We haven’t been in bed like this together since you were little.”

“I’m still little,” Annie points out into Beth’s side.

They’re curled into each other, Annie the big spoon around her sister’s shrivelled-up form.

Beth laughs a little, but it’s hollow, and Annie frowns in concern. She doesn’t know how to broach the topic, though, especially since she can’t see her sister’s face to gauge what’s going on.

She’d walked into the room to find her laying in bed in the foetal position, not a hint of light allowed in through the French doors, and Annie, caught off-kilter, had kicked off her shoes and climbed in. It had taken way too long for her sister to even realise she was there.

It’s different than any other time she’s found her crying in bed.

She'd always still seemed to have it together beneath it all; it was always like she just needed to get _through_. Through the sorrow and hopelessness to get to the other side, where a plan was always waiting. It’s Beth. There’s always a plan, or at least an inkling of a fix for some part of the problem.

But this time it’s like the hopelessness is the destination. There’s a weightlessness to her, a hollowness, that exists in her voice and the curl of her body. Annie presses a hand to her arm and it’s like if she removes it, her sister will float away.

“Annie,” Beth suddenly says, pulling her from her solution-less reverie.

“Yeah?”

She pulls back when she notices Beth slowly starting to shift, but it takes her sister an age – adjusting little by little and then finally rolling over to face her.

Her eyes are a little dazed, Annie realises, and she looks older than she’s ever seen her.

“What does it feel like to be in love?”

The blonde sputters at this – it’s not at all what she was expecting, if she’d been expecting anything, but Beth’s looking at her curiously, half-focused eyes open wide.

“I…”

It’s unbearably sad to know that her sister had been married for twenty years and is now asking her this question. And guilt hits her in the chest, too, as she remembers her own and Ruby’s words.

_Just because I didn’t choose some safe-ass boring-ass life like my sister– _

_You know why she did that? Because she had to! She didn’t have anyone to clean up after her, like you do!_

She wants to tell her she’s so sorry; she wants to say that she should’ve been less reckless and then maybe Beth wouldn’t have had to settle into a loveless marriage that could be both their safety nets. She wants to tell her that she wishes they could have a do-over; that she wishes she had any way to show her how much she appreciates her sacrifices.

But, instead, she answers. It’s how she’ll start.

“When you’re in love…” Annie thinks for a moment, thinks of Gregg and every stupid thing they’d been through together. “It feels like that person is your heart,” she admits, eyes moistening. “Not like they _have_ your heart – no. Like they are _literally_ your heart – someone ripped yours out and turned it into a person and they’re out there walking around all willy-nilly while you’re this barely-living thing until you see them again, and then you’re whole. And when they hurt you–” She cuts off, emotion making her throat thick. She struggles to clear it before continuing: “When they hurt you, it’s like how can your own heart do that to you, you know? It’s _your_ heart, it’s its job to keep you alive, not hurt you, but it does and then the ache is so deep inside you, there’s nothing you can do, nothing else you can feel or think about, because you let someone in, let someone replace a part of you, and now they’re breaking you down from the inside out.”

She doesn’t realise she’s crying a little till Beth comes closer and moves some of her hair out of her face. It’s tender, more so than her sister’s been with her in years, and she follows it up by wiping the tears away with her palm, like she’d used to do when Annie was little.

Finally there seems to be some recognition in Beth’s eyes and, thinking of the question she’d levelled at her, Annie draws a breath.

“Are you in–”

There’s a loud spurt of knocking on the front door and Annie sighs.

“That must be Ruby.”

Remembering the way _she’d _gotten in, Annie bites on her lip then decides her sister doesn’t need to know about that just yet. She’ll just go let Ruby in.

Beth moves away so she can extract herself, and she nearly falls out of bed but manages to make it all the way to the front door without tripping over herself or stepping on any shards of glass.

“What’s going on?” Ruby asks, wide-eyed, as soon as Annie pulls open the door.

Annie sighs. “I’m not exactly sure, but it’s bad.”

Ruby shoots her one last glance then goes ahead, marching into the bedroom.

“Oh no,” she exhales when she sees Beth curled up in the middle of the dark bed.

She’s not even wearing her usual pajamas – just a tank top and hair that looks like it’s not seen a comb or water in longer than Ruby dares think about. And that’s when the smell hits her.

“Honey, I love you, but it smells like a wet sock had a baby with a stale Cheeto in here.”

Ruby heads to the French doors then, moving around the curtains, pushes them open.

It lets in air without letting in much light, but Beth still groans in complaint. Then, thinking about her Cheetos comment, Ruby turns on her best friend.

“Have you been eating?”

She notices she's about three shades paler than usual and her eyes look unfocused. Even more so now that she tries to answer this question.

“I'm... not sure.”

“Oh my god,” she sucks in a breath. “Annie, go get her something to eat.”

Annie huffs but obliges as Ruby begins stripping the blankets off Beth.

“Are you actively trying to kill me?” Beth asks, tone indignant despite there being next to no energy behind it.

“I think you were doing good enough of a job of that on your own,” she mutters back. “Up.”

With a dissatisfied moan, Beth rolls off the bed and Ruby works quickly to replace the sheet, her best friend looking like her legs are about to give out at any moment.

She's just climbed back in, with Ruby replacing the rest of the bedding, when Annie comes back in bearing ice cream.

“_Really_?” she glares.

“What? If she hasn't eaten in four days, she's going to need sugar! And I brought three spoons,” she grins, holding them up as evidence.

* * *

They sit and eat ice cream in silence, after which Annie relents and goes to make PB&J sandwiches.

“You gonna tell me what happened?” Ruby asks Beth with a sidelong glance.

“It's over,” she shrugs. “That's it.”

“Just like that? What happened?”

“Ashkskddate,” she mumbles.

“What?”

And it's just as Annie comes back in, bearing two sandwiches and apple juice, that Beth says it clearer.

“He said he had a date.”

“_What_??” they both exclaim, and Beth's eyes close in distress for a second.

“How is he already dating??” Annie shouts, near-tossing the plate into her sister's lap.

“Well, it has been a month,” Ruby points out, but then quickly shakes her head when they fix her with looks that could kill. “Which is nowhere near enough time.”

“Maybe he was lying,” Annie posits.

Beth says nothing, biting into her sandwich as Annie sits first the juice then herself down.

“I'm sorry, honey,” Ruby rubs a soothing hand over her shoulder.

“Maybe it was just a first date,” Annie now suggests hopefully.

They ignore her.

“We're the world's worst friends,” Ruby eventually sighs in disgust.

“No,” Beth shakes her head. “I needed time.”

“To starve yourself to death?”

“To... wallow,” Beth decides. “To accept what we’ve always been. Work.”

There's silence for a few moments as Beth takes another bite out of her sandwich and chews.

“I'll stop moping, I promise.”

“Four days is your limit?” Annie asks, and Ruby glares.

“Are you sure?” Ruby asks. “What if it’s just a misunderstanding?”

Beth doesn’t answer, silence settling around them heavily.

Finally, she turns to Annie.

“You were right, I should've listened to you. You told me it would end badly.”

Annie pulls a face. “Well, by _badly_ I more meant our bodies in a shallow-to-medium grave.”

“_Shallow-to-medium_?” Ruby repeats in horror.

“Does that guy seem like the kind of boss who'd let his homeboys slack on digging a grave?”

“I can’t say I’ve given his grave-digging work ethic much thought,” Ruby glares.

“Anyway,” Annie shakes her head, “last week I told a woman in the store with the worst haircut ever that I think Pop Rocks shares are going to skyrocket in the coming year, which, to be fair, none of us can disprove. But the point is–”

“_Thank god_, there's a point.”

“The point is, sometimes I'm wrong.”

“_Sometimes_?”

After a few more moments of silence, Beth takes a breath that’s as long as it is shaky.

“I just… really don't want to think about it anymore.”

Her voice nearly breaks on the last word and Ruby and Annie exchange glances before Ruby takes a determined breath.

“You know what? Screw men.”

“Except Stan,” they point out in unison.

“Except Stan, bless his soul. We're gonna get out of this damn bed, _some of us_ are gonna shower, and then we're gonna kick it like it's 1991.”

“Ew.”

“We're going to the mall, bitches!”

* * *

They get way too much popcorn and watch two movies – a horror then a comedy, because Annie says nobody _just_ watches a horror. Their bladders are bursting with cinema soda by the time they emerge, laughing at each other more than the movie. Ruby repeats a skit from the comedy, only way funnier, then Annie acts out a caricature of the first girl who'd died in the horror and they just barely make it to the bathroom in time.

Next they stop in at Annie's candy store, where she bullies her co-workers into getting them half off more candy than they could eat if they lived to be 100.

In the food court they get burgers that drip sauce through their fingers. Annie dares Beth to lick them clean instead of getting out wet wipes and… Beth actually does it.

They go to a jewellery store and browse until Annie's royally pissed off every single assistant, then they go to department store, hold up every piece of jewellery to their bodies and buy nothing.

They dip into a luggage store because Ruby says she's putting good vibes out into the world. (Annie says the price tag on vibes is exactly what it's gonna cost the entire Hill family to get to Greece.) Beth finds a little makeup bag that she likes way too much for its price and they make her buy it. She assuages the guilt by telling herself that she hasn’t spoiled herself in forever. Not since – but she stops the thought right there, not letting it go to his hand wrapped tightly around her neck as he tugged her to him.

Eventually both Ruby and Annie have to leave and Beth assures them it’s ok.

She has nowhere to go or be, though. Dean still has the kids and as far as work is concerned, she’s still ostensibly sick. The mall seems bright and happy, filled with sound, and the thought of leaving it to go back to her cold and silent house makes her stomach turn.

So she keeps trawling it, looking at this and that, window-shopping more than she has in the past ten years combined. 

Her steps stutter when she ends up outside a lingerie store.

They’re having an opening sale. Three for the price of two. Beth takes her lip into her mouth.

She absolutely abhors places like this, almost as much as trying anything on in a fitting room. But she also hasn’t bought a single piece of underwear since her divorce – and it’s not like she’d been shopping around before that, either. And, really, most of her underwear drawer has long since reached its expiry date.

So, hesitating for only a second longer, Beth darts in.

She starts off shy and conservative – a bra here and something with lace sides there – but after ten minutes of browsing she decides _Fuck it_. She grabs at teddies and all-lace items and dainty pieces with even daintier designs. She gets some negligee too and several matching bra-and-bikini sets. By the time she makes it to the dressing room, she can barely carry it all. She buys nearly every single item.

She loads it all into the car then heads back inside. It’s nearly dark. There’s no escaping it – she’ll have to go home soon. But she’s thirsty and she convinces herself that’s good enough of a reason to head back in.

Beth drags her feet way all the way to a grocery store then flips through about five magazines before eventually grabbing a bottle of water. She browses the pre-packaged meal aisle for a while, trying to decide whether there’s anything more appealing there than in her freezer.

After five minutes she decides no.

She’s about to head to the checkout when a voice stops her.

“Beth.”

And, though icy air has been blowing from the freezers surrounding her, it’s the first time goosebumps rise on her skin.

She stays still for five whole seconds, hoping she can wish away reality.

But she can’t. Bad decisions don’t just vanish – it’s a lesson she should have learned sooner.

Because when she turns, Nico is standing there, smiling affably.

Needing a moment to catch her breath, Beth uses the time to take stock of him.

Rio has a knack for blending in, no matter where they are or what he’s wearing, but Nico’s different. He looks like he actually belongs here; like he’s one of those handsome guys you ogle a second before their gorgeous wife joins to ask if they’ve found the butter. His jeans are washed and his cardigan casual but stylish, rolled up at the sleeves. His smile is easy, gleaming, like his brown locks.

She clears her throat.

“What are you doing here?”

“You called,” he answers, still smiling, congenial.

“A month ago,” she points out testily.

Someone comes down the aisle and she quickly turns to pretend that she’s considering the contents of one of the freezers. There are so many different brands of peas. One has its slogan written in farm-style cursive: _The quality you know and love. _

When the stranger has gone, Nico steps a little closer. Cold air envelopes them.

“I’m a busy man.”

Beth chews at the inside of her lip as she looks at him from the corner of her eye.

“What if I changed my mind?”

“I don’t think you did.”

“And why’s that?”

“Based solely off the fact that you’ve been in this store for forty minutes and all you’re buying is a bottle of water?”

She flushes, not sure whether to feel mortified or panicked.

“You’ve been following me??” she says, turning on him.

“I like to be cautious.”

It reminds her of Rio and she bristles.

“I don’t appreciate your assumptions.”

“But I’m correct? You haven’t changed your mind?”

Beth hesitates. He’s making it sound like a question, but his eyes seem to say that she better not be wasting his time.

God. Why had she made that phone call?

“I need more information,” she hedges.

What had before been just a hint solidifies in his eyes as they harden just a little.

“But,” he says, clipped, “you’re ready to give up Rio?”

“I _was_. A month ago.”

She hopes pushing the blame on him will help get her out of this – even though, now that the surprise has worn off, it makes sense. He’s cautious.

If he’d just shown up when she called, he could’ve been walking into a trap, just like the one she’d considered setting for him as a way of helping Rio. Instead he’d come on his own terms; his own time. Caught her unawares.

And oh, she’s caught, alright – caught in a foot trap, and she has no idea how to get out.

He looks at her curiously. “Is Rio at your beck and call?”

His name sends a shiver through her and she turns away to look at the frozen goods again.

“He’s not what we’re talking about.”

Nico frowns. “I thought that's exactly what we're talking about.”

“No,” she decides, “we're here to talk about me.” Her eyes skip over the confident peas once more before she turns to face Nico again. “I'm not happy where I am, but it's still a career. You're asking me to give that up for a job.”

He’s visibly surprised, but then quickly impressed: “You want prospects.”

“I do.”

There’s a beat and she hopes silently that he won’t be willing to meet her demands.

But he shrugs. “Ok, then. When all this is over, you come work for me.”

Beth blinks back at him.

Over the past four days she hadn’t given much thought to business, and when she’d called Nico, the judge situation had been a fresh wound. It’s been a long time since, during which business had gone well, but things are different now. He’d looked at her the way he had and walked away and she’d felt everything shatter and change once more. She doesn’t know if they can still work together – if they _are _still working together.

Not that he’d ever really let her work _with _him, she remembers sourly. 

_You let me think we were a team when really I was just your lamb to the slaughter – again. The only thing you proved is that there’s nothing that matters more to you than your business._

At least with Nico, things could be clear-cut. She doesn’t know – and has never known – where she stands with Rio, but with Nico things could be different.

She straightens her back.

“What will you have me do?”

“A smart, pretty lady like you? I'm sure it won't be difficult to think of something.”

She nips at her lip nervously. It feels like she’s passing the point of no return.

“And my people come with me.”

He's stunned. “You have people?”

“I do.”

“Who are they?”

“You'll meet them when we come over,” she folds her arms. “But they're equally as smart and resourceful.”

“How many?”

“Two.”

“That's no problem.”

Beth’s shaking on the inside and it takes everything she has to keep it contained.

What is she doing?

But then she remembers _why _she’s doing it and the shaking stops.

“Then we have a deal.”

“Perfect,” Nico grins. He rolls back onto his heels. “The first thing I'm going to need you to do is get me his phone.”

Beth nearly chokes on her own spit.

“Excuse me?”

There’s no way he’d just said what she thought he had, right?

But he repeats himself.

“I want Rio's phone.”

She stares.

“I'm sorry, maybe I wasn't clear. For me to work for you after we take Rio down, I'm going to need to be alive.”

“You said you were smart, didn't you?” Nico cocks a brow. “And resourceful. So you can get it without him even noticing. That's the point. Get it.”

* * *

Beth feels like she can’t breathe.

She stops outside her house but she can’t go in. God, she doesn’t even know how she’d managed to drive here. Her hands are shaking and her insides feel like they are too.

Before she knows it, she’s ordered an Uber.

She needs a drink and she needs to be in public. Not that that had helped her in the freezer aisle, but there is _one_ place she knows Nico won’t go and thank god it has alcohol too.

It’s a shallow plan, but it’s a plan, and by the time the Uber comes, she’s not shaking as much anymore.

* * *

Beth enters the bar with a swallow.

It’s nighttime so it’s packed and she immediately feels much safer.

But what does safe even mean? Who is she scared of? Her _new boss_? What he’s asked her to do? But she’d chosen–

No. She needs a drink before she can even start to think about any of it. 

She heads to the bar, orders, pays and sits. Beth downs the first bourbon then the second and third and it’s only by the fourth that she starts sipping, feeling the familiar burn in her throat and lightness in her head. But she still can’t think about it, not just yet, so she turns to survey the bar instead. It’s all the normal crowd, a mix of hipsters and the city’s coolest thirty-somethings, some of whom she even recognises by sight by now and – 

She freezes, catching sight of him.

God, what is he _doing _here?? Doesn’t he have a date to be on, or something? Does he own this fucking bar; why the hell doesn’t he have anywhere else to go?

Gritting her teeth, Beth finds herself thinking about the type of woman he’d gone on a date with the other night. Had it been a first one, like Annie had hypothesised? Or a second or third? Or, worse, a first with the second or third woman?

_The man is fine. Anybody can see that. And he’s clearly rolling in it. He’s gotta be beating women off with a stick, right?_

God.

What kind of women does he like? She has no idea, she realises.

Amber flashes in her mind and Beth thinks _no_, too young and stupid. But she comes up empty trying to picture anyone else and so instead she finds celebrities coming to mind, women _she_ thinks are gorgeous. In her mind she places them next to him in an effort to establish a match and type, but instead she only finds loathing begin to rise in her stomach for each of them.

She doesn’t realise she’s staring all the while until he looks over by chance and his eyes catch hers.

Shit. Oh no. It’s like a nightmare twist on the first night they’d had sex.

She turns away quickly, sitting her glass down because suddenly the smooth liquid feels like pebbles in her throat.

She doesn’t know what to do. She can’t leave. What if he follows?

What if he doesn’t?

She’s frozen but hot all over, chastising herself for coming here. In her mind she replays what she’d said to him and she realises, hatred for those celebrities fresh, that a huge portion of her anger that night had stemmed from the way he’d – so easily – said that he was seeing somebody else. How had it been that easy for him to move on? He’d _dressed up_. It wasn’t even just sex, the thought of which already makes her nauseous. Imagining his hands on someone else; their hands on him – she feels light-headed.

“Hey, gorgeous,” a voice suddenly comes from beside her.

She looks up to see a guy with fluffy brown hair and a scar beside his nose. He’s good-looking, but there’s a machismo about him that makes her stomach turn even more.

“Hi.”

“Can I get you a drink?”

She clears her throat. “I was just about to leave, actually.”

She needs to empty her stomach into a toilet bowl and then sleep for a week. Maybe by then, she’ll be ready to face the messes she’s made.

“Damn, that quick? Ok, your place or mine?”

She stares back at this man, trying hard to figure out what it’s going to take to get him to leave her alone. She knows instinctively that he’ll follow her out, and the parking lot is quiet. Anything could happen.

“I’m flattered, but I’m not interested, sorry.”

“Baby, you don’t have to be interested, come on. You’re hot, I’m hot, what more do we need?”

She feels genuinely sick now. It’s hot in here and her stomach is genuinely turning, bringing the alcohol with it. She wants to tell him to go find someone else but, in truth, she doesn’t want to unleash him on any other poor woman.

It’s times like these when she wishes she didn’t have any daughters. But, thinking of them, she stands and draws herself up to her full height.

“I’d like you to leave me alone.”

He looks at her funny, like he can’t quite process her gall, then stands up too. He’s taller and he gets a little closer, till his beer breath is on her face.

“_I’d like_ you to fuck me in that corner over there.”

She scoffs. “You’re revolting.”

With that she turns away, fully planning to head to the bathroom and call Annie from there, but he pulls her back.

“Come on, baby, don’t be like that.” His tone is sweet as syrup, but his eyes are hard; his grip even harder. “You’ll like it, I promise,” he grins salaciously.

“Let go of me.”

“You don’t like it rough, cupcake?”

The bartender! But her lightbulb idea is wasted because he’s over on the other side of the bar, doing his job and completely ignorant to the situation she’s found herself in.

She turns back to her harasser, whose name she doesn’t even know, she realises.

“I’d _like _for you to leave me alone,” she tugs, trying to get her arm back. “I’ve made that very clear.”

He’s opening his mouth to reply when suddenly a shadow casts over them.

“Let the lady go.”

It’s Rio.

Her entire body relaxes then immediately re-tenses when she catches sight of Rio’s expression.

She knows him well enough by now. His eyes say he’s seconds away from dismantling this guy bone from bone.

“How about you mind your business and go find your own bitch?” the guy sneers, clearly not picking up on Rio’s very overt murder vibes.

“Yeah, I’m good, actually.”

The guy does a double take, surprised, then scoffs. “That wasn’t a request. Or we could always take this outside – you’ve got three seconds; think it over.”

He spits this like it’s his trump card and he is actually incredibly buff, but Rio smirks. It’s the slow dangerous one that creeps its way up your spine and trickles into your bones.

“Three whole seconds, huh?”

He’s eerily unfazed and the guy seems slightly more uncertain, but he glances at her then squares his shoulders, trying to stand as tall as Rio.

“What’s your deal, man? You think you’re so tough because you’ve got fake gangster vibes and a neck tat?” he scoffs. “That’s supposed to make people piss their pants?”

“Naw, usually this does,” Rio replies coolly, his gun immediately pressed into the man’s side.

His eyes round and he nearly chokes on his own spit then darts away so fast, his chair literally spins. Her arm aches a little where he’d been holding it and by the time she looks back up from it, she realises he’s completely disappeared.

Heaving a sigh, Rio takes the guy’s spot.

Beth’s eyes go to the gold gun nestled in his lap. He’s as casual about it as if it’s his jacket; his elbows on the bar as he regards the various bottles behind it.

“You ok?”

She hesitates then nods. She still feels his forced presence on her, like a heavy blanket, and she can almost still smell his body spray. She's also still worried about him going off and harassing someone else. But she’s a lot better than she’d been a minute ago, and she knows exactly what’s going to happen if she says all this aloud; if Rio goes after him.

“This place, man. Attracts the sketchest guys.”

Beth looks at him, surprised. Then she bursts into laughter. Rio smiles a little.

She kind of can’t believe he’d made a joke at his own expense just to get her laughing.

There’s a lot about the past few minutes she can’t believe. That he’d been here, first of all. But also that he’d been watching. That he must’ve not wanted to come over the same way she'd wanted him to somehow disappear more than anything else in the world the moment she’d laid eyes on him. But he had. He’d come to her defence despite everything. She doesn’t know what to say.

He speaks instead.

“You gonna let me drive you home?”

She hesitates. Then she nods.

* * *

Beth busies herself on her phone for most of the ride, but then the silence becomes too obvious and she knows she has to say something.

“…How was your date the other night?” she asks, staring directly ahead.

It’s half self-flagellation and half the only thing she can really think to ask.

“Cancelled on her,” he sighs. “Like an asshole.”

_Why? _is the first thing that pops into her head, but she forces herself to keep it buried.

“I’m sure she’ll forgive you,” she assures, hoping her tone is as even as possible.

“I dunno. I don’t seem too forgivable lately.”

She catches his pointed sidelong glance and clears her throat awkwardly. The man could write a book on calling her out.

“Schiller called,” he announces suddenly, and she turns in interest. “Wants to meet on Tuesday.”

Along with the usual rush of fear that the man’s name always brings, Beth also feels confused. Why is Rio telling her this?

But it’s not what she asks.

“What about?”

“Didn’t say,” he shrugs. “You wanna come?”

This sets her even further off-kilter.

“Um… y-yeah. Yeah,” she manages to answer, feeling like it’s the only response she can give.

Is he trying to make her feel more involved? Is this some weird sort of apology? She feels like she has no grasp on the situation and her inebriation isn’t helping. At least the nausea has finally faded.

“It’s at two.”

She nods. “Dean’ll be on pick-up duty.”

She’ll actually have to get the kids back tomorrow night and inform Dean that she’s ‘better’, but that’s an issue of its own. She also needs to get back to work – god, she hopes Dean hadn’t messed anything up. She doesn’t even know if Rio’s aware that he’s been handling things over the last few days. She thinks he would’ve said something, though – by which she means berated her – so Gina must be good at keeping secrets. She’s definitely putting her in charge of running things at the second Boland Motors. Which is yet another thing Beth needs to get back to. It’s in its finishing stages, meaning everything else needs to go on the back burner until then. But if she puts in enough hours, she should be able to take some time off on Tuesday.

“Cool. I’ll text you the address.”

Text. As in with his phone.

Beth’s eyes dart to him as if this’ll make his phone appear out of nowhere, but she quickly looks away again. _Everything else needs to go on the back burner_.

“Ok,” she forces herself to say, right as he pulls up smoothly outside her house.

She hesitates for a moment, not really sure how to proceed. Does she thank him? Apologise? Just say goodnight?

What does any of this mean?

Are they ok after all? Had she made too rash of a decision with Nico?

But he’s looking at her expectantly, like he doesn’t quite know why she’s still in his car, so she grabs her purse and opens the door.

It’s only when she’s out, about to shut the door behind her, when she thinks of something.

“Rio.”

He looks up curiously as she turns.

She takes a breath.

“Next time, give me the gun.”

In a protracted instant, the walls fall away as his lips curve into a smile and his eyes glimmer, admiration buried into the corners of them.

“You the boss.”

They hold each other’s eyes for the longest moment. For whatever reason, with them, it’s more effective than words.

Beth smiles too before shutting the door and walking away.

* * *

* * *

**Some of the stuff Beth bought, in case you're curious:**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, visual aids help me! Also, I feel like it's tangentially plot-relevant to know that Beth has a better closet now 😅😅
> 
> Ok, thoughts; feelings?


	7. From the Jump

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has some Rio backstory and I'm really curious to hear what you guys think! xx

She rushes in, frazzled.

“God, I’m so sorry I’m late!”

The room looks like a cheap doctor’s office and Rio is seated on one of the hard plastic chairs – his head on the wall behind him and his one foot up on his knee, looking like he could fall asleep at any moment.

He turns his head to regard her frenetic presence.

“It’s alright.”

“Jane threw up and they called me–”

She stops short, finally registering that he looks entirely unbothered.

“She ok?” he asks. 

“Yeah – um, have you not seen him yet?”

He shakes his head. “He ain’t here.”

She frowns. “It’s after two and he isn’t at his own office?”

He looks amused. “This ain’t his office.”

She takes another look around, her glance landing on every piece of drab furniture before landing on the secretary, who looks incredibly annoyed with the noise Beth has brought in.

She shoots her an apologetic look then sinks down beside Rio, placing her handbag on her lap.

“Is this like the office equivalent of a shell company?” she whispers.

“Relax, mami. He’ll be here soon.”

She shoots another glance at his relaxed form then tries to emulate it, reclining in her chair a little.

But it’s a weird shape for her back and ass, and hard as hell. She shifts around before huffing, shooting him a dirty look. He raises a brow, lips quirked, and she feels like he’s barely holding back on asking whether she wants to sit on his lap.

“How long have you been here?”

“Long enough,” he responds, laying his head back against the wall and closing his eyes.

“Is he normally late?”

“Sometimes.”

“Well, that’s just rude.” She shifts again. “Have you tried calling him?”

He opens one eye. “Do you know the meaning of relax?”

She glares and he grins.

“You know, I didn’t take you for the kind of guy who likes waiting around.” She pauses. “Especially in the world’s most uncomfortable chair.”

That causes a little chuckle as he straightens up.

“I can be patient when it’s worth the wait.”

She forces a scoff and rolls her eyes, shifting to move away from him a little.

He pulls out his phone to respond to a text and she stares, nibbling at her lip.

_The first thing I'm going to need you to do is get me his phone._

She swallows. Could she even do it?

Suddenly she remembers – she’d used his phone that morning to check on the kids. He hadn’t been suspicious or even bothered. But that had been a very specific situation, and even if she could get access to it, how does she take it?

How does she get it to Nico without him realising it’s gone? And there had been two. She assumes the one with the passcode is the one Nico wants (or is it? Wouldn’t he protect his personal life just as fiercely?), but how would she know before taking it? Which one is he using now, for example?

_You said you were smart, didn't you? And resourceful. So you can get it without him even noticing. That's the point. Get it._

She hasn’t had much time to give any more thought to it, the past few days a blur of planning and paperwork. The fact that she even remembered this appointment with Schiller is remarkable, honestly.

Shaking her head, Beth forces herself to stop thinking about Nico. He hadn’t been in contact with her again, which she assumes means she has time.

And, speaking of time… she checks her watch. Schiller’s nearly half an hour late.

“How do you know him, anyway? Schiller?” she turns back to Rio, curious. “How exactly does one join a syndicate?”

“History class ain’t in session right now,” he retorts, putting away his phone.

She rolls her eyes. “Someone should really fire the teachers at the School of Rio, because it never seems to be in session.”

That causes a chuckle, but no further response.

“You’re here, good.” Schiller suddenly breezes in, then stops when he sees her. “And so are you, Miss King. How wonderful to see you again.”

He manages to sound only half sarcastic and she stands.

“Mr Schiller.”

The realisation surfaces, suddenly, that he’s the reason she’d had to take her child into a house she was robbing; that he’s the reason she and Rio are where they are.

But she’s not even sure he’s aware she was involved; he definitely isn’t giving her any hint of it in his demeanour.

He shakes her hand then moves to hold the office door open for her. “Come in.”

She enters, her eyes searching.

There are books everywhere and certificates on the wall alongside diagrams of the human body. It’s definitely a dodgy doctor’s office.

She’s hesitant but sits when Rio does, facing Schiller behind the desk.

“So what’s up?”

Schiller grins. “No pleasantries, as per usual.”

“You late and I got stuff to do,” Rio points out.

Schiller holds his hands wide, his expression lit up like he’d just won the lottery.

“I have a Canadian distribution system.”

This means nothing to her, so she only watches as Rio’s eyes light up and he leans forward.

“No shit.”

Schiller nods. “All the homework is done. They’re professional, trustworthy and under the cops’ radar.”

Beth’s eyes go from one man to the other, realising neither intends to fill her in.

“We’re talking pills?”

“To start,” Schiller nods. “But we could do anything; everything.”

She looks back at Rio. His eyes are shining like a kid in a candy store but he’s not saying anything, just contemplating.

“But… isn’t that riskier?” she asks. “Going across the border–”

“We already operate across the border,” Schiller snaps. “This is just taking advantage of that. The opportunities are endless. Any idiot can expand into another city, but another country? That’s a gold mine.”

“Or a liability.”

“You don’t build an empire by playing it safe, Miss King.”

She notices Rio shift at the word empire. He’d used it, once, but it had been to talk about the syndicate. She feels like Schiller is talking about Rio and Rio only.

He clicks his tongue.

“Gimme the numbers.”

She only half-listens from there, her mind conjuring up a Canadian Agent Turner and every other thing that can go wrong.

It doesn’t sound like Schiller plans to stop at Canada, either.

Her eyes close for a second as she swallows, feeling like a brick’s settled in her stomach. She remembers Spert’s warning.

_A big fish like Rio? That collar will get me there. He’s not just worth a dig, Beth, he’s worth the whole damn excavation. _

_Then I knock you down like a domino and use you as a cautionary tale for the next one. And the next one and the next one, until your boss is just as locked up as you are._

_All roads lead to Rome. Rio’s going to prison, Beth, the only variable is whether you do too._

She opens her eyes to look at Rio. He’s fully engaged, as animated as she’s ever seen him.

He wants this, she can tell.

It scares her more than anything else has for a long time.

Even all by itself, it would terrify her, but now it feels like she’s juggling five different balls. And if any of them fall –

_If you mess up like that, you go to jail or you die_

Rio sits back in his chair and she tunes back in.

“A’ight.”

“You’ll think about it?” Schiller asks.

“Yea.”

“Good. I have another appointment; see yourselves out.”

In three strides, Schiller’s left the office and Rio looks at her for the first time again. She opens her mouth but he shakes his head.

“Not here.”

* * *

He holds the door open for her as they enter the bar.

It’s even emptier than it usually is in the afternoons. God, it’s probably really pathetic that she knows that.

“Be right back,” Rio says, before heading off toward the bathrooms.

With a sigh, she sits at their normal seats.

Her eyes wander to where she’d sat the other night and the fear and disgust come rolling back. It makes her blood curdle to think what could’ve happened if Rio hadn’t intervened.

“Can I help you?”

“The usual,” she says without looking up, desperate for the bourbon to wipe the memory from her mind.

“Err, what’s that?”

She looks up and realises she doesn’t recognise this guy at all.

“You’re new?”

“Yeah, Barry’s training me,” he smiles lopsidedly.

She smiles back. He’s cute.

“Bourbon.” She points to the one on the shelf that she wants. “On the rocks.”

He nods. “Coming right up.”

She admires his form and his muscles as he works, wishing he’d been here when that revolting man had harassed her, that he’d been the one to come to her rescue instead.

As grateful as she is to him – for more than just that night, really – Rio has a way of cocooning her, making her feel like she’s on solid ground. And even though she knows it’s not true, she can’t help being drawn in.

In the few moments she’d managed not to think about work over the past few days, her mind had gone to the way he’d glowered at that guy, the way he’d demanded he let her go. His gun on his lap as he settled beside her; her malevolent protector. The way he’d made her laugh. The way he’d made sure to get her home safely.

It’s the cocoon, deceptive, making her drown in self-derision because no matter what she does, she can’t seem to rid herself of her feelings for him.

Even now her eyes are on the bartender’s arms, noting where they’re missing tattoos. Her glance goes up to his throat. It looks bare.

He delivers her drink with a warm smile, a hint of interest in his eyes.

“Here you go.”

She smiles back but keeps her eyes slightly averted. “Thanks.”

He hesitates then leaves and she closes her eyes with a sigh.

_Why? Why can’t she just get over him?_

“You prayin?”

She opens her eyes to see Rio settling in beside her with an amused smirk.

“Sure – that you realise how incredibly stupid this is.”

He winces, clearly having hoped that her opinion would swing a different way.

“The numbers are good, mami.”

“And what about everything else?”

“Like what?”

“Like us being locked up for life by Interpol.”

He chuckles. “You watch too much TV.”

“This is risky, Rio.”

“All business is risky, Elizabeth. What we doing _now_ is risky.”

“What we’re doing _now_, we have control over.”

Immediately his expression becomes sombre. “What’s that mean?”

“It means that right now, we’re on the ground. You can make the decisions that need to be made. The moment you expand to somewhere we can’t be, that means you’re not the boss anymore.”

His spine straightens, eyes narrowing.

“I’m always the boss.”

Desperately she tries not to blush, remembering the last time he’d said something too similar.

_I really don’t like you being my boss while we’re in bed._

_I’m always your boss in bed, darlin._

“No, _Canadian Rio_ is gonna be the boss. He’s going to make decisions you can’t be there to make. Decisions that could send us to prison.” She can see he looks bothered, so she presses: “Remember Boomer? Mary Pat? Agent Turner?”

Now he smirks. “So whatchu sayin is, so long as Canadian Rio don’t get himself involved with a Canadian Elizabeth, we’ll be good.”

She glares. “That’s not funny.”

He chuckles. “It’s kinda funny.”

“What colour are you gonna paint the walls in your cell at FCI Milan?”

His eyes harden. “That ain’t funny.”

“It’s kind of funny,” she returns, not smiling.

He looks at her for second, nostrils flaring, before taking a deep breath.

“I’m listenin.”

“I could barely handle Turner. You know how bad it got. Stan went to _jail_. I can’t do that again, I can’t. What we have now works, we know it does. Expanding means changing and you _know _that’s riskier than anything we’re doing now.”

He rolls his shoulders. “There’ll be growing pains.”

“And for someone starting out, that may be fine. But the cops already have our number. Including Schiller’s, I don’t think I have to remind you.”

Not to mention Spert.

Rio meets her eyes for a second then turns with a sigh, putting his elbows on the bar. She catches sight of a revealed inch of his back and immediately averts her gaze.

“It’s good money,” he ponders.

She hesitates then turns too.

“What’s this really about?”

“’Scuse me?”

“It’s not about the money. I’ve seen your ‘nest egg’.” She hesitates for a second before deciding to forge ahead: “And I saw your face when Schiller was talking about it. This isn’t about money.”

There’s a pause as the new guy asks him what he wants and he orders a scotch.

Rio sums her up for a long moment before turning back towards her.

“…You asked how I know Schiller.”

She nods eagerly. She’s been waiting on this story since the night of the gala.

Suddenly the bartender is back. “Sorry, which maturity did you want – five years; fifteen?”

“Ten,” she shoos him away impatiently. She can’t have Rio changing his mind about telling her whatever he’s about to tell her.

Rio looks at her curiously for a moment before launching into it.

“Schiller, he always been a fat cat, but he was into some other stuff back then.”

“Then?”

“Oh, this is a long time back, sweetheart.”

He thanks the bartender for his drink and takes a slow sip, seeming nostalgic. 

“You shoulda seen my mom’s house. Was a shoebox. Hated that fuckin place,” he says with a grunt, his tumbler hitting the bar with a thunk. “She worked three jobs and just managed to keep it over our heads. Fed us most mealtimes. That was about it.”

He’s not looking at her and she’s glad. She feels guilty.

Her childhood hadn’t been all roses, but it hadn’t been that bad. She’d never had to worry about her next mealtime, just whether her mother would be up to cooking for it. Their house had been respectably sized. When she’d asked for a piano, it had fit in the front room.

“I was a punk who only wanted to get out,” he continues. “Wanted the kicks and the whip; wanted the life. Thought I could be a banger. My momz wouldn’t let me leave school, though. Good thing, too, ‘cuz see, Schiller was bleedin money. Only he didn’t know where it was haemorrhaging. And he didn’t trust nobody, either. I still don’t know where he got the fuckin idea from, but he was desperate, I guess – he asked his nephew who the best kid in his class was with numbers.”

Beth lets out a breath.

“You.”

He sneaks a glance at her, smiling. “Yeah.” He takes another sip. “He tracked me down. Gave me three grand up front and asked me to look at his books. I didn’t hesitate. Shit, I’d never seen that much cash in my life; I woulda shined his shoes if he asked.”

She frowns. As hard as she tries, she can’t imagine Rio like that.

“So I took a look. Turned out they were all on the take, his whole crew. From his manager to his doorman.”

“And his accountant,” Beth realises.

“Exactly. I knew he was gonna have to shut it all down, so I asked him if I could come work for him instead. He told me if I could double the three grand, he’d think about it. I came back with nine,” he announces proudly. “I been tripplin his money ever since.”

“…So you never ended up joining a gang?”

He looks amused. “Naw, not really.”

Which implies he _had_, for some amount of time, but she figures that’s for a different day’s pressing.

“But then why–”

“Do I let people think I’m a banger? Cuz it works; helps me flip my game.” He shrugs. “People look at me and they see what they wanna see – if it helps me, I ain’t complainin. ‘Fore you got my money cooked, even the Feds thought I was just a low life on a high rung.”

And she tries not to flush guilty at that, so she forces herself to think about something else.

_School_, he’d said. So he’d known Schiller since he was eighteen, if not younger.

“That’s why you trust Schiller.”

“We trust _each_ _other_. Can’t stand the guy, but we both know we on the up and up.”

“So you, what, feel loyalty? Want to impress him?”

“Naw,” he sighs. “It ain’t about him.”

“Then what’s it about?” she frowns, still desperate to understand this; him.

She thinks this will forever be her cross to bear.

He hesitates, unable to meet her eyes, and she finds herself laying a hand on his wrist.

“Rio. Tell me.”

His glance goes from her hand to her eyes. For a second she can’t breathe and, she thinks, neither can he.

Then he speaks.

“Even though I know I ain’t ever goin back to how things used to be; even though I moved my momz outta that matchbox; even though I know Marcus can be whatever he wants to be… Some part of me still remembers it, too fuckin good. And it tells me to keep goin; to keep pushing. That nothin’s ever enough or far enough away.”

“You’re scared,” she whispers.

“It ain’t rational, I know that.”

“It’s human.”

He stares at her for a moment and something passes between them; something she could never put into words.

“So you get it?”

She nods. “As much as I can.”

They’re both silent for a while and she lets her gaze drift to where their hands still meet. His is warm, as usual, and feels strong beneath hers. She doesn’t want to let go.

Clearing her throat, she makes her eyes go back to his.

“Do you know what the number one rule for going grocery shopping is?”

He raises a brow at the change of topic then shakes his head.

“It’s not to go hungry.” He laughs a little and she continues, softly: “I feel like the same rule probably applies for making big business decisions because of a complex.”

He works his jaw for a protracted moment then, slowly, he nods.

“A’ight. I’ll tell Schiller no.”

For some reason, it takes her breath away.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t gotta thank me, ma. If you ain’t comfortable doing something, we ain’t doin it.”

_Just like you knew I wouldn’t be ok with it. Just like you knew I wouldn’t be ok with taking one of my daughters into a job. But you didn’t care about any of that, did you?_

Her lips part.

“New rule?”

Rio nods a little. “Shoulda been that way from the jump.”

There’s a feeling in her heart that she doesn’t really know how to describe, but she knows that it feels like an entire load has been lifted off her shoulders.

She hasn’t been waiting for an apology but, now that it’s here, she realises it means more than she ever thought it could’ve.

With a breath, Beth retracts her hand so she can hold it out between them.

“Partners.”

Equal ones. Finally. Really.

His lips curve up as he puts his hand in hers.

His handshake is sturdy, strong, and she can’t help wishing his hand were wrapped around her neck instead, pulling her closer.

“Pardners.”

His voice is gruff yet soft in that way only he can do and he’s not letting go of her hand.

She’s glad they’re in public or she’s not sure what she’d let herself do.

“So Canadian Elizabeth and Rio don’t get to meet, huh,” he smirks.

She smiles back.

“I’m sure they’ll find a way.”


	8. So Afraid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lighter, less-plot heavy chapter after all the angsting!

“And that’s how you left it?”

“That’s how we left it,” Beth nods, and Ruby exhales long and slow.

“No…?” and Annie makes a circle with one hand then darts her index finger in and out of it.

“Annie!”

“Hey, listen, I just asked what we were all thinking.”

Beth shakes her head.

“No. We’re just… we’re good now. Really.”

He’d even said he’d take her through his operation, which has her both nervous and excited.

“Finally,” Ruby mutters.

“Yeah,” Annie scoffs. “It took Jesus Christ quicker to _come back from the dead_.”

“Ok, why’d you have to bring Jesus into it??” Ruby turns on her.

“Why, are you on his PR team?”

Ruby looks about to throttle her sister, so Beth clears her throat extra loudly.

“The point is that we’re free and clear. All we need to do now is get the second dealership up and running and that’ll take care of Spert.”

“Hopefully,” Ruby points out, and Beth nods concedingly.

“And when _is it_ going to be up and running?” Annie asks curiously.

Beth shrugs. “There isn’t really that much more to do. We’re waiting on some inventory and some last bits of the puzzle – like phone lines – and then we’ll be ready. I’m sending out invitations for the launch party tomorrow.”

“Look at you go!”

Beth grins in delight. She does feel really accomplished. At first, the thought of doing it all herself – and in Rio’s tiny time frame, no less – had felt impossible. But she’d learnt so much in that time, reminding of her how quick of a learner she is and how much she can truly handle.

She feels proud of herself, not least because she’d proven she’s capable of more than crime. She can – and will – open a car dealership all by herself.

Beth taps her fingers on the kitchen counter excitedly. “We need to celebrate.”

“Oh, you know I’m in,” Annie does a little jig.

“Same.”

“I have the kids, though,” Beth points out with a pout.

“Ok, remember back in the day when we’d all do a big sleepover?” Ruby says.

Beth gasps, remembering when the kids had all been different ages of unbearable and they’d decided to pool resources.

“Yes!”

“We should totally do that again, right?”

“Definitely,” Beth nods.

“Except this time,” Annie grins, “instead of just trying to get some sleep, the three of us can go out and get liiiiit.”

“Exactly. And Stan’s not working tonight.”

“And I’ve got Sadie.”

They both turn to look at her and Beth grins.

“I have a meeting in an hour, but after that, we’re on.”

* * *

“So you control all of them?”

Beth stares at the map of Detroit Rio has splayed on the counter between them.

“The ones who make money,” he nods. “Lots of em don’t even know their boss ain’t their only boss.”

She absorbs this as she stares at the numerous black dots he’s made on the map, Detroit’s different gangs. He’d already explained that he isn’t involved in their day-to-day, only their profits, but it’s still blowing her mind.

But slowly pieces of the puzzle start to fit together: none of his guys looking like they belong together, the way he’d so easily found drivers for the pills, his variety of income streams. How quickly he can flip his game. The syndicate.

“This is insane,” she lets out a long breath.

Hundreds upon hundreds of incredibly dangerous people under his command, whether aware of it or not. And she’s now… what? Truly a part of it? Partly in control of it? What exactly had she shaken hands to?

And she suddenly remembers Swenson, the human trafficker who’s part of the syndicate Rio’s a part of.

_She’s_ a part of, now.

“How’s that?” he asks, smirking.

“It’s…” But she struggles to verbalise any of this, shaking her head instead. “A lot.”

“Told you you in the game with player one, sweetheart.”

And yes, he had.

_Well, everybody wants to be king, darlin. I mean, not everybody can be, but they all wanna try. All wanna do some stupid shit to prove they as good as me._

_Are they?_

_Oh, no one's as good as me, sweetheart. You in the game with player one._

But she’d never really thought about it. If anything, she thought he’d just been cocky. She never could’ve imagined this was the extent of his kingdom.

“What about Nico?” she finds herself asking.

_Everybody wants to be king, darlin. I mean, not everybody can be, but they all wanna try._

Rio’s expression immediately irons out, eyes clouding over as they dart down to the map.

“Yeah, he ain’t on this. Detroit ain’t really been his thing till recently. But it’s only a lil bit here and there. Rest of Michigan has more of his focus.”

“Why haven’t _you_ ever gone outside of Detroit?” she wonders.

“’Cuz I got things on lock and that’s how I like it. I’d rather stay in my lane wit' full control than jump out ‘cuz of a complex.”

She smiles a little at the reference to their conversation the other day then frowns, curious.

“If it’s so much more widespread, do you think Nico doesn’t have as tight of a grip on his operation as you do?”

He straightens up, rolling his shoulders.

“I don’t wanna talk about Nico no more.”

She stares at him, debating within herself.

If there’s any time to tell him, it’s now.

But his jaw is hard and his eyes are black and god, she’s so scared. What if he kills her? What if he never trusts her again? What if she never sees him again?

“So that’s it,” he says. “Now you all caught up.”

She stares at him for a second longer; takes a breath.

“Thank you.”

* * *

Beth places a kiss on each of her children’s heads.

They’re enraptured watching Finding Nemo – which Ruby had given Stan endless attitude about – so she doesn’t even bother with a verbal greeting. Stan winks as she waves and she follows the girls out.

“Is Sadie ok?” she hears Ruby wonder as they head towards their Uber.

“I think so,” Annie nods. “He said he was a bit nauseous earlier, but he seemed fine now.”

“God, I hope it’s not that weird flu that’s going around.”

Once they’re in the car, Annie changes the music, finds out the driver’s entire life story and just generally takes over until they’re giggling their way back out.

That’s when Beth realises.

“Oh god.”

“What?” Ruby asks, frowning.

“Annie, you didn’t tell me we were coming here!”

“What?” her sister frowns. “It was so cool last time we were here!”

And oh, that’s right. She’s never told them that it’s where she almost always meets with Rio. That at this point she’s pretty sure he must have some sort of owner’s stake in it because he’s here more often than he’s not, at least when she’s looking for him. There’s a reason she’d once started her surveillance of him here.

She doesn’t say that Annie’s reference to the night they’d been here makes her hand tingle where he’d enveloped it.

“It’s just… never mind.”

They both frown at her but she goes on ahead, pushing the door open and then holding it for them.

But it’s a little emptier than usual, so she’s quickly able to determine that he’s not actually here.

A little surprised, she heads towards a booth and the girls join her before forcing her to explain her hesitance. She does, leaving out the part about the bathroom, half because she doesn’t want to tell them about it and half because she doesn’t want to talk about it.

“Ok, well if gangfriend _does_ own this bar, he should give us a table.”

“What?” Ruby laughs.

“You know, like a gold plaque that says this is our table and nobody else is allowed to sit here. Also discounts on drinks, like hook a sister up!”

Beth and Ruby roll their eyes and shake their heads.

“You’re ridiculous.”

Beth’s still laughing a little at this when the new bartender from the other day comes to their table.

“Hey.”

He says this very noticeably to her first before looking around at the rest of the table.

“Can I get you ladies anything?”

“Um,” Beth says ineloquently.

“Three beers and all the fries you have back there,” Annie orders.

He smiles, _looks _at her, then nods and leaves.

They wait approximately two seconds before breaking into near-yodels.

“_Who _is that??”

Beth blushes. He’s really hot and a lot younger than her and she doesn’t really know what do with that.

“The new bartender,” she tries to act casual.

“He is so fine,” Ruby points out.

“And he wants to hit it hard,” Annie finishes.

“Or he’s just nice,” she hedges.

“Ok, your ass is lying, what’s going on?”

“Spill!” her sister agrees.

Beth huffs. Then: “He served us the other day when I was here with Rio and he also gave me a few looks then, but that’s it. I don’t even know his name.”

“Oh, but you’re going to!” Annie dances.

“No!”

“Beth,” Ruby levels her with a look, “you said you were moving on.”

“It’s not about that! He’s a child! I mean, he can’t be over thirty.”

“I’d have my money on twenty-nine, and so what?” Annie points out. “Just means he has extra _stamina_.”

“Do you ever fail to find an opportunity to make things gross?” Ruby glares.

“Just. No,” Beth shakes her head. “I’m not drunk enough.”

“Fine,” Annie concedes. “But once you are…”

* * *

It’s two hours later when they drag her to the bar.

Things had gotten a bit busier so the waitresses had taken over all serving, leaving Ruby and Annie with the ‘genius’ idea for _them_ to go to _him_.

She sits on one of the stools gingerly, half because she feels absurd and half because she’s too tipsy to do anything less than carefully.

A smile breaks out on his face when he catches sight of her, and a few minutes later he bounds up.

“Can I get you ladies anything else to drink?”

“Yes, um– what’s your name?” Annie asks.

“Charlie,” he supplies before his eyes drift back to Beth.

She’s near-squirming. She’d been married for twenty years – picking up guys is the very last thing in her repertoire. Everything about this makes her want to curl up and die.

“Ok, Charlie. Why don’t you mix up something special for us?”

He nods with a grin. “No problem.”

He leaves and Annie fixes her with a glare.

“Do you intend on saying anything?!”

“Um, no,” she points out.

“Oh. My. God. How do you expect me to get you laid?”

“I don’t!” Beth chokes out.

“Also, what’s the plan, exactly?” Ruby asks. “The guy’s clearly working.”

“Why are you two so _old_,” Annie groans. “Look, the main thing is to get them talking, some vibes flowing. If he ends up finger-banging her outside between grabbing people craft beers, all the better.”

Beth and Ruby are busy choking and spluttering at this when he comes back, three cocktails in hand. She forces some composure, thanking him with a smile, and he nods with a smile back before going to help another customer.

Annie looks her over. “Can you pull your top down a little lower?”

“Annie, _no_!”

“What is your _deal_?”

“What’s _yours_? Why don’t _you_ flirt with him?”

“Because he’s clearly into you! And besides, he’s way too strappy and square-jawed for me. I like em a little nerdier,” she shrugs like this is her unfortunate lot in life.

“Can’t argue with that,” Ruby snorts before discovering her phone is ringing. “Shoot, it’s Stan.” Answering, she gets up and goes in search of a quieter spot.

Annie bumps her a little. “So? Are you gonna let me do this for you or not?”

She studies her for a second.

“Depends why you’re doing it.”

She sighs. “Ok, remember when I found out about you and gangfriend? Remember what I said?”

Beth frowns, trying and failing to access the memory through the haze of alcohol.

“That you deserve some really good sex!” Annie exclaims, loud enough to gain a glare from the couple beside them.

Beth offers an apology, but her sister just sneers: “What, like you aren’t going to go home and do it? Get a life.”

The redhead covers her face with her hands and by the time she pulls them away, the couple’s vacated the spot.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Well, _you’re welcome_. Listen, you’re finally free. And hot! Beth, it’s time you realised that you’re a stunner and Deansie never appreciated you for it. Gangfriend wasn’t some weird fluke of luck – well, ok, maybe, ‘cause he’s like on another planet of hotness, but that’s not the point. The point is, it’s not him or nothing. You’ve got options. And you don’t need to be alone if you don’t want to. Even if just for tonight. You deserve some really good dick, _we all_ deserve some really good dick–”

“_Please_ stop talking so loudly, I get it!”

And thank god she’d stopped her, because now Charlie’s coming back this way from the other end of the bar, smile bright.

“What do you think?” he asks.

She realises she hasn’t taken a single sip of whatever he’d mixed up for them.

“Um…” She pulls at her lip with her teeth, hesitating, then decides to be honest. “I haven’t tried it yet, sorry. I was distracted.”

“Yeah?” he smiles, and she realises he thinks she means by him and _oh no, _she’s tripped her way into flirting. “You know, I didn’t get your name the other day.”

She clears her throat. “Beth. It’s Beth.”

“Elizabeth or Bethany?”

“It’s just Beth,” she says too quickly.

He nods. “Ok, just Beth. Do you wanna try that or should I get you something else?”

She smiles then gives it a sip. “It’s good.”

“Awesome.” His eyes take her in. They’re a dark green and they seem kind. “So who’s that guy you were in here with?”

Oh god.

“Oh. He’s my… he’s my business partner.”

“You two seemed close,” he notes.

Beth feels like she’s suffocating on oxygen – thank god her sister comes to her rescue.

“Yeah, they’re _so _close. He’s basically her brother. I’d know, seeing as I’m her sister and all.”

Beth’s eyes widen at this, but Charlie seems to have caught on the wrong part of it.

“You’re sisters?” He regards Annie. “How much older are you than Beth here?”

Annie fold her arms with a huff. “Ok, cool it, Cassanova.”

Suddenly Ruby comes rushing back with a worried expression.

“What’s wrong?” Beth asks with a frown.

“Sadie has a fever,” she says, looking at Annie.

“Oh no,” she groans. “My poor baby.”

Immediately she starts getting out bills and standing. “Beth, you stay.”

“Nooooo, you aren’t seriously doing this to me!”

“It’s not a trick, I promise,” Ruby says, eyes earnest.

And, believing her, Beth immediately becomes all business: “Well, then, I have to come with you. Jane had it the other day. I’ll know what to give him and where it all is.”

Neither of them can argue with this, so after a moment of thought, Annie turns on the bartender.

“You. Write your name and number on this,” she shoves a serviette at him, “so my _much older _sister can call you if and when she chooses.”

Beth blushes but he obliges without hesitation, giving her an extra sweet smile when he hands the serviette to her.

She waves at him a little and then they breeze back out of the bar as Annie mutters about stupid stomach flus and how she’s going to murder all of Detroit if she gets it too.

* * *

Beth settles into the couch with a sigh.

She feels too wired up to go to sleep. It’s that kind of energy where you’d been tipsy but then you’re forced to focus and suddenly you’re neither tipsy nor sober but a hundred percent not able to sleep.

She gives her pillow another fluff like it will make it more enticing. Stan and Ruby are sleeping in her room with Kenny, Danny and Harry on a blow-up mattress, with Annie and all the rest of the children upstairs.

She reaches for her purse then pulls out her phone and the serviette.

It’s nearly 1am. If he’s not finished with his shift yet, he’d at least be taking a break.

_Charlie_, it says in near-cursive.

_You’ve got options_, Annie had said._ And you don’t need to be alone if you don’t want to. Even if just for tonight._

Beth dials.

She’s utterly regretting it by the third ring, but then suddenly it connects.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” she says her voice small.

“It’s late; what’s up?”

“Annie, Ruby, Stan and all the kids are over at my house, we’re doing like a sleepover thing.”

It’s only when the answer has left her lips that she realises that’s _not _what he’d meant by what’s up and so much for not still being tipsy.

But, figuring there’s no way else but forward, she forges ahead as if she hadn’t accidentally answered his question like an idiot.

“What’s up with you?” she asks with a throat clear.

“Got Marcus,” Rio says after a moment of silence. “There was a school thing; he was upset. Was a whole fuckin nightmare.”

“What happened?” she frowns, immediately concerned.

“Some jackass tried to bully one of his friends. He stood up for him and the principal thought it was his fault–” Rio cuts himself off with a sigh like he’d really rather not think about it again. “Nightmare,” he repeats again instead.

“Is he ok?”

“Yea, he eventually calmed down.”

“Is the principal ok?” she teases.

He lets out a rush of breath. “Coulda fuckin clipped that moron right then and there.”

“But I’m sure you calmly and politely instead explained that Marcus wasn’t the one at fault.”

He sniggers. “Yeah, sure.”

“Was Marina there?”

“Uh huh.”

“Sounds like you had a long day.”

He sighs. “Long don’t even cover it.”

“So why are you still up?”

“Dunno. You?”

“I just can’t sleep,” she shrugs, casting another longing look at the makeshift bed she’s turned the couch into.

“Whatchu up to?”

“Nothing. I should probably get some water, though. You?”

“Watchin cartoons.”

“What??” she says, glad she hasn’t gone to get the water yet, or she likely would’ve spat it everywhere. “Why?”

“Kid fell asleep watchin it and now here I am.”

It brings to mind an image – Marcus’ head on his lap on the couch in an apartment she hasn’t seen, the TV lit up in font of them with cartoons.

“Which channel?”

He tells her and, switching the TV on, she flicks to get there too. She turns up the volume a tiny bit, pleased to see that Courage the Cowardly Dog is on.

“Oh, I used to love watching this show with the kids.”

“Hate this fuckin show,” Rio growls.

“What? Why?”

“What’s he always so afraid of?”

“There are literal monsters and ghouls.”

“Didja see the episode wit’ the robbers?”

“Well, what was he _supposed_ to do?”

“Shoot em.”

“He’s a dog, he doesn’t have a gun!”

“But he got a fuckin seat at the kitchen table?”

“You curse a lot at night,” she points out, but she’s smiling.

They’re quiet for a while as the episode unfolds, poor Courage trying his best to keep his family safe, but mostly just running around yelling a bunch.

Beth’s feeling more than a little miffed that Rio has managed to ruin the sweetness of the show for her when suddenly he bursts into laughter.

“What?” she frowns.

Nothing funny had happened, unless he’d changed channels on her.

It takes him a few moments to get himself under control enough to speak.

“What’s the, uh, fuckin husband’s name?”

She frowns. “Eustace.”

“Yeah. Eustace.” He laughs again. “He look exactly like your ex, darlin.”

“No, he doesn’t! That’s not funny!” But now she’s laughing hard too.

“Yeah, ok. Ring me up in twenty years – if I let him live that long – and you’ll be tellin me a different story, sweetheart,” he chuckles. “The spittin fuckin image.”

The episode ends and they watch commercials together for a while.

“I miss Marcus,” she finds herself admitting.

It’s too dark and quiet and she’s just tipsy enough.

There’s a beat of silence, during which she has just enough time to regret her words, but then he speaks.

“That why he didn’t make the cut for the sleepover?” he taunts.

She pinks. “It wasn’t _that _kind of sleepover!”

“Uh huh.”

“Me, Ruby and Annie went out, so Stan and Sadie babysat.”

And it suddenly clicks into place why he hadn’t been at the bar: he has Marcus.

Which begs the question: is that the only time he isn’t there? She remembers his words.

_I know it’s lonely at the top. _

“Hmm,” he acknowledges. “You have a good night?”

She thinks about this.

She had, but something had felt off. And she hadn’t known what, until the precise moment he’d answered her call.

She misses him in an entirely new way. Misses his lips and him pressed against her; misses the harsh of his tongue and soothing voice in her ear. Misses his large hands, firm and decisive on her body.

Now that they’re finally back in a good place, she wants more, and even when she’s not thinking about it, it’s in the back of her mind; a dull aching need.

“Yes.” She clears her throat. “It was fun.”

“Cool,” he says, and leaves it at that.

It’s only halfway through the next episode of Courage when he brings it up again.

“You wanna arrange a playdate or sum’n?”

Her heart begins to flutter at this – not just getting to see Marcus, but also Rio, and in a non-work context at that. He’d been all business this morning, no lingering looks or flirty smiles. Just an explanation of his operation, short and to the point, and he’d been gone in under an hour, leaving her longing, that dull ache thudding.

“Y-yeah. Yes. That sounds good.”

“A’ight.”

“After the launch.”

“Hmm,” he hums.

She’s smiling and then suddenly Eustace trips and falls and maybe it’s the lightness she feels, how late it is, picturing him as Dean or just the inherent comedy of it, but she starts giggling, hard. She can’t stop, either, for a whole minute she can’t stop.

“You got the cutest fuckin laugh I ever heard in my life.”

Beth stops dead, barely breathing.

Is he drunk? High?

But he’d said Marcus is there with him.

She blinks a few more times, trying to process that he’d really just said that to her; that he could really mean it.

Then, quietly, she responds.

“Thank you.”

There’s a moment of silence then Rio groans.

“Imma kill this damn dog.”

Beth’s glance jumps back to the TV and she rolls her eyes.

“It wasn’t his fault!”

“He coulda stopped her.”

“He tries his best; Muriel is the world’s biggest danger magnet.”

“Guess you two got another thing in common,” he laughs.

She does too, she can’t help it, but then stops short, remembering his words. And then she lets herself laugh again, even louder and happier; freer.

* * *

* * *


	9. Shit’s Complicated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your feedback on the last chapter! I was scared it wouldn't be popular because it didn't move the plot along much, but your thoughts made me feel better about putting up this one, which also doesn't move the plot so much as inform it. I hope you enjoy xx

“The boss don’t wanna hear about that.”

“Naw, it’s a’ight,” Rio shakes his head at Demon with an easy smile then waves a hand. “Let’s hear it.”

The kid’s eyes light up, with a grin to match, and he launches into a presentation on his side hustle. Rio couldn’t be less interested, but now he’s bought some goodwill and time to himself before their next meeting. He gives Demon a look to communicate this, who nods and smiles, and Rio settles back in his chair.

There’s a lot he gotta do today. He flips through it all in his mind then remembers, shit. The sofa's gotta get refurbished. It's littered with nicks where Marcus keeps dumping his baseball shit.

He’s picturing it and trying to remember the leather guy Gabby said he should go see when he realises he ain’t picturin _his _sofa no more.

It’s Elizabeth’s, cleaner than usual as they sit with their bowls of spaghetti. She’d texted him a pic of the red sauce and he’d gotten there soon after – maybe too soon. But he hadn’t been thinkin straight – imagine that.

_“Red wine?”_

_It ain't his drink of choice, but he takes some and he likes watchin her watch him drink it. It's good – surprisingly – and he tells her so. She smiles like she'd made it herself then bashfully bows her head to hide it. _

_“Guessin this ain’t your first glass?”_

_She looks back at him, cheeks rosy, and he fixes her with _that_ stare. Like _Imma fuck you, mami, but not just yet._ Then, casually, continues eating. _

_He deliberately doesn’t look up again but hears her place her bowl down a minute or so later. In his periphery he clocks it; notes it’s only half-finished. But she pushes further onto the couch, sipping her wine and starin; waiting. _

_He starts eating slower. Not just to be an asshole, but ’cuz he likes her eyes on him. Not as much as he likes lookin at her, but it’s close._

_And then, when there are only a few more forkfuls to go, she leans over and pulls him to her, uncompromising. She tastes like her and wine and he pulls away just long enough for them to put their stuff down – fuck if he can resist her – before she lands in his lap and he tugs her all the way closer. _

_Their mouths are hot and hungry, nearly as hungry as her fingers on him, getting rid of his clothing. He’d suspected she’s just in her bra and panties under that dressing gown and he’s right _–_ right, and so pumped to be touchin her after a long day of not having her skin beneath his. _

_It’s his favourite thing in this world to touch, so damn soft and smooth, and he makes sure it’s all she’s wearing, licking and nipping his way down her sternum; nosing against one of the breasts he thinks about even when he ain’t awake. And he wants to give em attention, but she’s grinding urgently against him and he can’t take it. _

_He pushes her off so he can kick away anythin he’s still wearing then stretches his legs up across the sofa. She already knows, facing away, by the time he drags her back onto his lap. Elizabeth moans, just at his hands on her, and he marvels at the curve of her neck; the slip of her spine. _

_“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he whispers against it. _

_He doesn’t think she hears. That’s cool. Better that way, really._

_“Rio,” she says suddenly, looking over her shoulder. _

_He frowns when he sees the look of near-panic on her features. _

_“What?”_

_She hesitates, seemingly self-conscious. Then: “I’ve never done this before.”_

_It’s absurd she thinks this is somethin to be ashamed of, when it makes him even harder to know no other guy’s gotten her this way before. _

_He considers just assuring her but then remembers _naw_, she can take it._

_Jerking her by the chin, he runs his teeth over her lips then uses his other hand to bring her closer, till she can feel just how fuckin hard she makes him. _

_“Good,” he says. _

_She lets out a breath and he releases her face to help her lift her knees up high. _

_Wrapping his hands around her thighs, he lowers her onto him and they both groan so goddamn loud. She’s wet as fuck and he has to bury his head in her neck just to distract himself. One hand goes to wrap around her breast but when she tries to start moving, he has to bring her to a halt. _

_“Go slow, momma,” he cautions. “Slow.”_

_She makes a high whiny sound then pushes both his hand and mouth off like he’s stifling her. _

_“Don’t, I’m gonna come too fast.”_

_Fuck. _

_He has just enough mental capacity to draw in a breath then whisper into her ear: “Uh uh, don’t do that. I wanna see you, ‘member?” _

_She makes another high-pitched sound, clenching, and Rio grits his teeth before managing to lie down, head perched on the armrest. He can see her ass, purple ovals on porcelain skin where he’d bitten her, and he reaches out to put his hands on her sides, helping her as she starts moving, slowly. _

_“_Oh, Rio_,” she cries out nearly immediately. _

_He wants to smirk but he ain’t much better – the visuals with her little sounds are only making the overwhelming sensations in his cock that much harder to ignore. _

_She’s stopped, leaning over, trying to adjust, squirming, and he hisses. _

_“I _can’t_. You’re so big, fuck, I’m gonna come,” she moans, cries. _

_His fingers dig deeper into her skin. _

_“Then come for me, mami,” he chokes out. _

_She lets out a sound of relief and presses down once, twice, clenches, and then she’s shaking and whimpering, quivering around his cock, and Rio wishes he could see her face. He loves the curve of her jaw; the way it falls open as she does, losing all compunction. _

_Eventually she finishes and after a few seconds she starts to move on top of him, finding a slow rhythm. His hands are pressed firmer into her sides than even before and she reaches back to move one of em to her ass. Yeah, that’s good – five fingers dug deep into the soft white globe as she moans. _

_He watches the bruises, his hand, her fuckin perfect ass; his length disappearing into her as she begins shallowly bouncing. _

_“Fuuuuck,” he moans, near-breathless. “Keep going, ma.”_

_She does and in seconds, he’s gone. He explodes into her, his body darting up a little of its own volition as she keeps moving, fucking him into her sofa and the middle of next week. _

_Finally he stops coming and he has to force her hips to a standstill. She tosses her head back with a soft sigh, and after a minute he lifts her up off him. _

_She reaches for tissues beside the sofa then starts cleanin them both up. He feels outta commission. _

_When she’s done, she stares at him, lip pulled between her teeth. _

_“That was…” She struggles then doesn’t finish the sentence, starting a new one instead. “I didn’t… know.” _

_She’s lookin at him like he’d hung the stars. She ain’t alone, either. _

_Somethin he don’t know how to explain happens when they together. He loses all control and, fuck, he’s never made a woman come that fast before, don’t matter the position or how much alcohol's involved._

_“C’mere,” he says, jerking his head. She comes a little closer then stops, unsure. “On top,” he nods. _

_It’s fuckin weird, the way this is the thing that makes her blush, not what they’d just done or that they’re ass naked. _

_After a second she does straddle him, though, and he levels her with a look that quickly eliminates any bashfulness. _

_“You gonna come again for me, Elizabeth,” he demands, drawing a finger up her warm thigh. “I wanna watch you.”_

_Her lips part but she doesn’t say anything. Man, he’s so damn glad she’d let him know she likes talkin in bed._

_He parts her folds then darts two fingers in and she shivers a little, drawing her lip into her mouth. He crooks his fingers and she cries out, pressing her legs closed in reflex, and he shakes his head, playing at anger. _

_“Uh uh, open up.”_

_Now the coyness is back and she takes her time with it, parting her knees like they got all the time in the world. _

_Then he starts pumping in and out and she moves her hips to it, eyes still on his. He licks his lips then moves his fingers up, up. He’s barely started a rhythm when she falls forward, palms pressing into his chest, as he starts going harder; faster. _

_“Ahhh, Rio,” she breathes. _

_Elizabeth whimpers and then it turns into one long broken sound as his fingers keep goin, lightning fast. She’s fluttering around them before letting her weight drop on top of him completely, breathing hard. _

_“You’re the devil,” she murmurs into his neck eventually. _

_He chuckles. “Then why you the one who’s so irresistible, huh?”_

_She pulls back to look at him, eyes saying somethin he don’t know how to interpret. _

_Then she leans down to kiss him and he wraps his hand around her neck to pull her close. They kiss for so long that by the time he wakes up at 3am, he ain’t really sure when they fell asleep. _

Rio bites on his lower lip, realising his jeans are damn tight and the kid’s still dronin on.

His phone vibrates in his pocket and when he sees her name on his screen, he clears his throat.

“I gotta take this.”

Demon gives him a quick look then nods, gesturing at the kid before ushering everyone out. He waits till they’ve all gone then answers.

“Hey.”

“Can you talk?” Elizabeth asks, sounding uncertain.

He guesses she’d deduced somethin from how long he’d taken to answer.

His glance passes over the door everyone had exited through.

“Sure.”

“You're not busy?”

“Naw, not at all.”

“Ok. I just… wanted to know whether you still wanted to do the playdate?”

He smiles. He’d kinda forgotten about that.

“Yeah, of course.”

“When are you free?”

Maybe it’s the way he’d just been seein her in his mind, but he’s really enjoying listenin to her voice. He wants to keep her talking.

“Whenever you are, mami.”

This seems to set her off-kilter for a moment before she recovers.

“…Ok, um. Wednesday?”

“Sure.”

“Oh, wait, no. Thursday?”

“Cool.”

“2?”

“Uh huh.”

“You’re sure you’re free?”

“What, you my secretary now?”

“No, but I think you could probably use one. You could put me on with them now, for example, so I can be sure you’re not double-booking me again.”

“But then I wouldn’t get to talk to ya.”

There’s a short moment of silence and he imagines her cheeks gettin all rosy.

“Um, so,” she clears her throat, putting up that professional façade he noticed she likes throwin up to feel back in charge of shit. “Thursday at 2?”

“Shit, I thought you said Wednesday at 1. I got somethin on on Thursday.”

“At this point it’d be more helpful if you put Marcus on.”

He throws back his head in laughter. She doesn’t interrupt so, when he’s finished, he replies.

“Thursday at 2 is good, mami.”

“_Thank you_,” she grumbles.

She sounds ready to hang up and he settles back in his chair.

“How’s the launch stuff goin?”

“Oh,” she starts gettin awkward. “Fine. Fine.”

He smirks. It’s the last thing in the world he’d wanna go to, but he likes makin her feel bad about it.

“My invitation got lost in the mail, huh?”

“If… if you really wanted to come… I guess you could.”

He laughs again. “I’m fuckin wit’ you, mami. Ain’t my kinda thing. That’s why I got you.”

“It’s not your ‘kind of thing’? I remember you cleaning up pretty well.”

He turns this around in his mind, letting it spread and fill him up. For a second, just for a second.

“Oh, yeah, I do. I meant dealing wit’ all o’ them numbskulls. Shakin hands; kissin asses. Ain’t my strong suit.”

She scoffs a little. “Don’t I know it.”

“You knockin my kissing or my hands?”

She’s blushin harder now, he knows.

“I should probably go.”

He smiles.

“A’ight.”

“I’ll see you on Thursday–”

“At 2. Yeah.”

“Ok.”

“Cool.”

After a few long seconds she finally ends the call and Rio can’t help smiling at his phone before pocketing it again.

Then it quickly disappears when he remembers the number of meetings he’s still got before the end of the school day and he gets to see his kid. 

* * *

His sister comes to the window as Marcus runs into the house.

Rio lowers it and Gabby grins.

“Wanna come in? I made hot chocolate.”

He’d been plannin to come back after an hour or so, but now he shrugs.

“Sure, why not?”

* * *

Marcus and Archie go to his room to play games, hot chocolate in hand, and Gabby raises an eyebrow at him as she goes about pouring out two more cups.

“How’s work?”

He scowls.

“Why you always gotta ask me that?”

Ain’t like he ever gonna tell her anythin about it, and she knows it.

“Because I live in the hope that one day it’ll shame you enough to get a real job.”

He rolls his eyes and she grins.

“How’s Marina?”

“Fine, I guess. Thanks,” he says as she passes him his cup.

“Wanna watch TV?”

“Sure.”

They head to the living room.

“I miss her.”

“Who?” he asks with a frown, sitting in the middle of the sofa, placing one ankle on his knee.

“Marina,” she answers, plopping down next to him. “Well – not _her _her, but, you know.”

“I don’t.”

She sighs belabouredly. “I just feel like you’re lonely.”

“I’m not.”

“Five dollars in the Lying Jar.”

“The what?”

She turns to point to a labelled jar on the kitchen counter, half-filled with money.

“It’s a new thing they’re doing, like it’s funny to lie about whether I already signed their homework books or if they washed their feet before bed.”

“Ain’t _swear jars_ a thing?”

“I think we’d lose Grant’s entire paycheck in it if we had one.”

He snorts. “Fair enough.”

Shifting closer, she tries settling on his shoulder then huffs.

“Mierda,” she complains, “I forget how knobby you are.”

She misses his resulting glower, moving to get a cushion from another sofa. She props this against his shoulder then settles her head atop. He buries a smile in his cup as he takes a sip. She’s the only one in his family who would dare this kinda thing.

“You know, Carla’s gonna give us shit if she finds out we’re having hot chocolate without her.”

Rio rolls his eyes.

“Carla lives to give me shit.”

She laughs. “That’s true.”

She slurps on her hot chocolate for a while – shit, Rio’s been tryna get her to stop doin that since they were kids – before suddenly piping up.

"You know how you're my favourite brother?"

"I'm your only brother," he points out dryly.

“Will you give me a foot massage, favourite brother?”

“Ain’t that whatchu got a husband for?”

“If you say that about him and he says that about you, who am I getting a massage from?” she scoffs.

He laughs. “You fuckin lyin.”

“Five dollars in the jar,” she giggles, and they laugh together for a while.

Eventually silence settles, and it’s heavy.

He wonders – had he walked into a trap here? Ain’t like she’s usually makin hot chocolate, but that’s ’cuz she’s normally either at work or sleepin off her night shift.

Gabby moves to put her mug on the coffee table then sits back, pulling the cushion onto her lap to regard him.

“You know, it’s not right.” At his raised brow: “You’re the older one, but I worry about you.”

He rolls his eyes.

“You don’t gotta worry about me.”

“Shockingly, you saying that doesn’t actually stop me.”

“Hmm.”

He finishes his hot chocolate too but keeps the mug in his hands, feelin his sister’s eyes on him.

Finally, with a little huff, she speaks.

“Are you just going to go home to only Marcus every night for the rest of your life?”

Damn, he really shouldn't have mentioned her husband. 

“Sure, why not?”

“Because you don’t even have him every night! And because before you know it, he’s going to be moving out and on and you’re going to be a 50-year-old bachelor.”

He snorts. “Sounds fuckin dope.”

“It’s not a joke! This is your life, not some game, and you’re not 20 anymore.”

“Yeah, thanks,” he rolls his eyes.

“_One day, hermano, _you’re going to have to settle down. After you realise there’s nothing to chase anymore, nothing to run from but your own shadow. I just hope you live to see that day.”

_You’re scared. It’s human. _

She sighs. “Sometimes… sometimes I have nightmares that you’re gunned down. And I don’t know until a week later because no one lets me know; no one’s there to miss you.”

He doesn’t say anything, stares straight ahead, and she knows him well enough to know that that ain’t sittin right with him.

She weaves her arm through his, pressing close to him.

“Lo siento, Rio.” She sighs heavily. “I just want you to be safe. And happy.”

“Who said I’m not?”

“You don’t even know, do you? On the rare occasions when you _grace us with your presence_ at Sunday lunch, it’s like something’s missing; has been missing. You’ve become so closed off.”

“Since when?”

“I don’t know, the past three years. Nobody knew what to say.”

He pulls his arm away from hers.

“Y’all been talkin ‘bout me?”

She ignores the growl in his voice, re-adjusting thoughtfully.

“Carla’s been trying to address it, in her own way.”

“That’s her tryin?” But now things start to make sense: “That why you took her side last time?”

She tugs at her lip hesitantly, like she doesn’t want to admit to being caught out.

“We’re just trying to get our brother back,” she says instead. “Even just doing this, right here, I miss it.”

He has no comeback for this.

He supposes he has been withdrawn for a while, but for good reason. She right, he ain’t that young no more.

He don’t wanna be livin this life forever, neither. That’s why he’d been goin hard, gettin shit sorted. In his line of work, retirement comes a lot earlier. He gotta know everythin’s handled when that time comes.

And, fuck, that’s if Schiller even lets him out.

“It’s just been rough recently,” he settles on.

He could tell her about Nico, too, but he doesn’t wanna worry her.

“See, normal people, they get home from their shitty days, where they know they’re safe, and shake it off; unwind with someone they love,” she points out.

Before he can reply, the boys come runnin in with their empty mugs. They put it in the sink, Marcus righting his cousin’s, before darting back into the bedroom.

Gabby stands to go wash em ’cuz she’s weird like that and he follows, stopping at the kitchen island.

“There’s someone, actually.”

“_What_?” she exclaims, high-pitched.

She spins so fast that the cup nearly falls from her hand.

Rio regrets it instantly.

“Naw, she just…” he breaks off, shrugging with unintelligible hand gestures, and Gabby’s eyes light up as if it’s a legit form of communication.

“You _like _her!”

“Keep your voice down!” he growls.

“I’m sorry, I just – who _is _she?”

“Stop gettin so excited. Shit’s…” he sighs, “complicated.”

Instantly she’s crestfallen.

“Please don’t say she’s somebody’s sister who wants to kill you.”

He chuckles. “Naw, nothin like that.”

She stares at him for a few seconds, arms folded, probably correctly guessin that she ain’t gonna get any more out of him than that.

“Can I give you one bit of advice?”

“I feel like you gonna anyway.”

“Stop using your head so much and give your heart a chance.”

“Did you get a job with Hallmark and didn’t tell me?”

“Shut up.” But her glare softens. “You’re always twenty steps ahead of everyone else and, yes, it makes you brilliant at what you do, but it’s a liability in a relationship. Especially since, despite what you think, you’re not always right.”

“Now, see, that’s just bullshit.”

She rolls her eyes, immune to his deflections. Coming closer, she places a finger first on his temple then in the middle of his chest.

“Stop trying to control people with this and start empathising with this.” She smiles wickedly. “And by the way, that goes for Carla and your someone.”

He rolls his eyes before looking at her, curious and a little concerned.

“You think I control you?”

“No. But that’s because I don’t do anything you don’t want me to,” she teases, sticking out her tongue.

“Oh, yeah? Stop giving me this dumbass lecture.”

He’s shielded from whatever rejoinder she’s working up because the boys come back into the kitchen.

“Daddy, it’s half past three.”

“Cool, get your stuff.” He looks at his sister. “Who’s that leather guy you mentioned?”

* * *

It’s a long fuckin drive out.

After dropping Marcus at Marina’s, he listens to the radio for a while then turns it off, his mind elsewhere anyway.

He’d told the kid about the playdate and Marcus had been so damn excited.

He kinda is, too.

He still gets a kick outta watchin Elizabeth with his kid. She’s always ruffling his hair and offerin him milkshakes and shit. It makes him feel things he’s got no business feeling; think things he definitely shouldn’t be thinkin.

It’s been more than once he’s caught himself wonderin what she’d been like pregnant. Round and moody, he thinks. Radiant yet prissier than ever.

Thing is, in his mind, it ain’t Dean’s kid she carryin.

It ain’t like he’d wanna knock her up, either. It’s just that he can’t help the shit he thinks when he’s around her and sometimes… sometimes he don’t mind it, not even a lil bit.

* * *

“I will prepare you the quote; one moment, please, don’t go anywhere.”

The guy’s tiny and Italian or somethin, but he seems capable enough, and Rio backs up from the counter as he disappears into a back room.

It’s a small shop but well put together, building on his confidence that he can get his sofa back to the way he’d bought it, and he goes around lookin at all the shit that’s on display.

He’s wondering how this guy makes money all the way out in the middle of nowhere when his phone starts vibratin.

For a second he thinks – but nah, it’s Marina, and he lets out a sigh of disappointment.

“Yo.”

He wonders what coulda possibly come up in the past two hours since he’d dropped off Marcus.

“Your sister just called me.”

His heart starts thumping hard. But, naw, she wouldn’t tell her, would she?

“Gabby?” he asks, faux-calm.

“Carla,” she replies, and he lets out an inaudible breath. “She wanted to know what to get Marcus for his birthday, but I don’t know what you’re getting him.”

His fuckin sister and her need to always plan for things months in advance.

“I dunno.”

He’s got a few options in mind but hasn’t landed on one yet.

She laughs lightly. “Figured as much.”

“You know he wants a car?”

“I wonder who he got his audacity from,” she taunts. “Oh, speaking of, Carla also asked me if she could plan his party.”

“Ok, and?”

Sounds good to him – Marina hates plannin that kinda shit.

“He’s not _getting_ a party this year, Rio.”

He frowns. “Thought we said he could.”

“That was before you took him to Legoland.”

Oh. Right.

“We could do a family thing,” he suggests.

Silence. He didn’t mean to step in it, but he also didn’t _not _mean to.

She ain’t hundreds with his family, not that anyone’s real clear on why. Only Rio knows the real issue: they think she trapped him, she thinks they hate her ‘cuz he talks shit about her behind her back, and the unspoken animosity had grown over the years, none of em giving a shit that they all wrong. He’s tried settin it straight – for the kid’s sake, if nothin else – but both sides are too stubborn and he ain’t exactly a stellar peacemaker.

“Yours,” he decides to add, ’cuz he’s tired of this phone call.

Marina sighs. “There’s only one child anywhere near his age in my family.”

He knows. He just wanted _her_ to point it out.

“Look, just ask him what _he_ wants, a’ight? Maybe he don’t even want no damn party.”

“He’s a child, Rio,” she says.

“And he’s got more sense than some grown-ass people I know – and I got better things to be doin right now than discussin no party.”

“Marcus said you were going to a leather guy.”

“Yeah, and? Maybe if you didn’t let him put his shit everywhere, he wouldn’t do it at my place.”

Fuck, she riles him up.

“Like I said, he’s a child. Maybe if you stopped treating him like an adult, you’d understand that.”

He presses his lips together, deciding with a look around the store that now ain’t the time to explode.

Instead he stays calm, real calm.

“You know what? You right. He ain’t no adult. He’s a kid, and kids get birthday parties,” he asserts. “Glad you mentioned Legoland; we can have it there.”

There’s a moment of staccato silence. Then the call clicks off.

* * *

He gives the bartender a nod of thanks. 

The drink, his third, stares back at him and it’s like it’s tellin him it ain’t what he wants.

He knows.

He wants outta this spiral, he wants outta his head, he wants to feel good.

In short, he wants Elizabeth.

Without really meaning to, his gaze goes in the direction of the bathroom.

That fuckin night, man.

_You did it. You a boss now._

He’d been so ready to give it up, move along.

And by it, he mostly means her. She woulda become just another link in his chain; in his city.

_Are you being careful?_ Gretchen had asked him.

And he was bein, of course. But Elizabeth had finally taken care of the store manager and he’d figured, yeah. Time to get out.

Clean break, fresh start and all that. She didn’t need him no more.

But then he’d caught sight of her – here, at his bar, with that moron – lookin at him with somethin in her eyes he never thought he’d see outside his own imagination. For a second he’d thought nah, he’s got it wrong.

But then she’d stood and swayed those perfect fuckin hips all the way to the bathroom and he’d been a goner.

Well-laid plans, clean break, fresh start – all gone. Vanishing as she’d met his eyes in the mirror, as she’d locked that door, as she’d lifted her dress up and revealed all that creamy skin.

Fuck. He’s kinda hard again now.

Rubbing his hand roughly over his eyes, he takes another gulp. He’s gotta stop thinkin about her when he’s like this. He’s gotta get her out of his mind.

But it’s worse here, where he can still hear her little sounds as the hand towel released; can feel her striking his back as she thrashed around him. Can feel her pulse against his tongue.

And then after. They hadn’t said nothin, but she’d looked at him funny, the one time she’d let their eyes meet. Kinda like _What now? _

He hadn’t known.

But it had only taken her leavin, closing that door behind her, for him to know he wasn’t lettin her go after all.

_Oh come on, ma, it’s too good. We’re partners now. _

He rubs at the bridge of his nose, all of today runnin together like fresh ink.

He hates when women tell him he’s doin shit wrong – ’cuz in his experience, they usually right. And he hears Gabby’s words run together with Marina’s, combining with shit Carla had said to him in the past.

Even Gretchen.

He’d told her about Nico, when he’d first found out he was back.

_Don’t you dare kill him. With the history between you, you’ll be suspect number one and I don’t need a murder trial in my lap right now. _

_Wasn’t plannin on it. _

_Really?_

_Yeah, I made someone a promise. _

And then he’d broken that promise to her, with the kill order, and look where it’d landed him. He can’t seem to do anythin–

“Hey.”

It takes him a second.

His head is heavy and she’s in front of the late afternoon sun streaming into the bar. But eventually he’s able to turn and catch sight of the preppy brunette smiling uncertainly at him.

Shit.

“Hey,” he near-stutters.

“Chana,” she re-introduces, flustered.

“I remember.”

He didn’t.

But it has the intended effect: she rocks back on her heels, at ease; smile brightening.

He clears his throat. “Again, I’m real sorry for cancellin on you the other night. Sum’n came up.”

They’d met pretty much just like this. A bit later, the bar a bit fuller, but pretty much like this. She’d come up to him and it had taken his interest – girls these days, huh. Small talk, which he hates, but he’d given it to her; it ain’t easy makin conversation with a stranger. And then she’d just asked him.

He’s real good at rejecting women. Lookin the way he does and with the line of work he’s in, he’s gotta be. Especially since he doesn’t date, which rules out at least half of anyone who propositions him.

He doesn’t date, but.

She’s gotta be like ten years younger than him and, yeah, it had stroked his ego a bit. It’d been welcome, too, considering he’d been sitting there – days after the fact – still trying to stop rememberin the disgust on Elizabeth’s face as she’d looked at him in her sister’s place; the way things had ended.

_You’re my business partner – I’ll stop avoiding you. _

_That’s it?_

_That’s it._

So he’d said yes.

And then the night had come and of fuckin course it’s the night Elizabeth wants to meet; of course it’s the night she ripped into him so damn deep that it’d left _him_ wanting to rip somethin apart.

He wasn’t goin nowhere after that. He’d wanted to kill someone or fuck someone and the nice girl from the bar hadn’t done nothin to deserve that.

_I don’t know any self-respecting woman who’s going to take all that baggage on for free_, Michelle had said. And, yeah, fair enough. He gets that now. So he’d texted her, cancelled, then gone to the gym, where he’d put on his boxing gloves and imagined the bag was a mirror.

“It’s ok, really,” she shakes her head. “I just… Did you want to reschedule?”

Oh, shit. He hadn’t been expectin that.

“Uh, y’know, I really would, but the thing is… there’s someone else.” Her face falls a little and he feels bad. “Sorry.”

“It’s ok,” she rustles an echo of her smile back up. “Thanks for being honest.” She pulls a face. “Things are… tough out there. Honesty’s rare.”

He winces ’cuz there’s somethin about the way she says the word tough.

“Hey, listen, you ever seen a guy in here? Lil shorter than me; if you squint, could kinda look like a hulked-out Jonny Depp?”

She smiles at this description then considers. After a moment her eyes widen.

“Yeah, actually. I think I know exactly who you mean. I’ve seen him in here a few times. The other night he came onto my friend, actually. Pretty strongly. We were with her, though, so it was fine.”

This sets his teeth on edge.

“A’ight. Look, I gotta get outta here now.” His head’s spinnin a little and he ain’t gonna be no good to no one like this. “Will you do me a favour?”

She nods easily.

“If you see him, can you try and get me a pic?”

She frowns at this for a second, likely at his motive, before nodding.

“I can do that.”

“Cool. Thanks. Imma cover your tab for the night, yeah?”

She grins. “Sounds good.”

He makes it outta the bar in a straight line, which he’s pretty damn proud of, waitin on a cab. He twists to look back into the bar. The brunette – Chana – is ordering a drink.

She’s real pretty, he thinks.

Not just that, she’d made him laugh that night.

_You’re really nice. _

_Oh, trust me, I’m really not. _

_Then why are you being so nice to me?_

_’Cuz you remind me of my sister. _

_Ouch. That’s like one step up from mom. _

Pretty; quick-witted. But not enough. Never enough. No one is Elizabeth and he doesn’t know what to do with that. Every other woman pales in comparison to her, which is pretty damn ironic considerin she pale as fuck.

He wishes he had a smoke, he thinks, watchin someone drag on theirs.

Fuck, he ain’t wanted one in years. He fidgets, stamps his feet, tryna take his mind off it.

And shit, it goes to her instead. The way she’d asked him about when he’d quit. _Because it’s one more thing than I knew yesterday_, she’d reasoned. But the more she knows, the deeper she burrows, and it’s pretty damn clear that she’s already gone too far. A lot further than anyone else.

And she likes goin on about not knowin him, but what else does he got? The things she don’t know are the only defence he has left. The only control he still has.

But _Stop trying to control people_, Gabby had said. _It makes you brilliant at what you do, but it’s a liability in a relationship._

He sucks at relationships, and there ain’t very many things he sucks at. Maybe… maybe she got a point.

_The only thing you proved is that there’s nothing that matters more to you than your business. Not my children, not our safety and definitely not me._

Fuck, he’d messed up.

He kicks at the ground. The wind changes direction, bringing the smell with it from the smokers’ direction. It’s acrid, repugnant, and he looks up to fix em with a stare.

In a second they’ve put out their cigarettes and hurried back inside. He sniffs, pleased and sullenly amused.

Elizabeth, she ain’t like them. He don’t scare her no more.

He doesn’t know whether that’s bad or good. These days he don’t know a lot.

Like, for instance, where the fuck his cab is.

* * *

It's less than an hour later when Rio falls into bed.

His phone had vibrated while he brushed his teeth and he rolls over now with a groan to get it.

For a second he’s confused, then his inebriated brain finally remembers – he’d missed Chana’s name that night, so he’d saved her contact as the date and time they were supposed to meet up.

He opens the text.

The image is pretty good, considerin the lighting in the bar. It’s clear she’d been pretendin to take a selfie, with the real prize in the not-too-distant background. Clever girl.

Taking up most of the frame is the fuckin perv who’d had the audacity to lay hands on Elizabeth; to spit words outta his bottom-feedin mouth about her.

_How about you mind your business and go find your own bitch?_

He texts her a thanks then crops her out of the pic and forwards it to his other phone. From there, he sends it to Demon.

**_Take care of him_**, he follows it up with. **_Make it real fuckin slow. _**

The first vibrates again and he’s thinkin it’s Chana, but it ain’t.

It’s a calendar invitation. She’d sent him a fuckin calendar invitation – and he’s smilin about it. The subject line just says ‘Thursday at 2.’ Period and everythin. He rolls onto his stomach just so he doesn’t have to think about his own damn smile anymore.

But after a minute he turns his head to get a breath of fresh air, and his glance catches on the empty side of the bed.

_Are you just going to go home to only Marcus every night for the rest of your life?_

_Before you know it, he’s going to be moving out and on and you’re going to be a 50-year-old bachelor._

_This is your life, not some game, and you’re not 20 anymore._

Truth is, none of that sounds good to him. But he’s been focused on work for so long that he stopped thinkin about what happens after. Who’s gonna be there.

Not that he needs anyone – Rio’s just fine alone. Better than fine, actually. By himself he does some of his best work. He don’t need no one.

But what he wants and what he needs are different and the truth is, he don’t wanna be alone forever.

_Sometimes I have nightmares that you’re gunned down and I don’t know until a week later because no one lets me know; no one’s there to miss you. _

Biting on the inside of his cheek, his eyes take in the cold space beside him and he fills it with her; remembers all the times he’d looked beside him and Elizabeth had been there, tangible. Full lips, porcelain skin, splayed hair; swallowing when she wakes, then blinkin like someone’s holding a torch to those big blue eyes. Her voice all scratchy and real. Real.

He’s had enough fuckin women in his bed to know the difference. To know what it feels like to only stay in bed the next mornin ’cuz you wanna fuck, not ’cuz it’s warm and she’s there and you like lookin at her. To wanna be done as quick as possible – here’s a coffee, your clothes, a cab – not pulling her closer; holding her against you just ’cuz her soft skin makes you feel good.

Fuck. He’s thinkin about her again, isn’t he?

And it’s real sad, ain’t it? He been tellin people all day that there’s someone else, but the truth is, he owes the Lying Jar a stack.

Sighing, he rolls onto his back.

But he can’t help lookin again.

This time it brings a specific memory of her, one he hasn’t thought too much about since.

_When I was young, trust me, those people were everything I wanted; what every fourteen-year-old who only wants to escape wanted: money, contacts, freedom._

_What’d you wanna escape from?_

_…It’s not important._

He hadn’t pressed and now he wishes he had. She’s always makin out like he’s the only one with secrets, but she got some too.

And now more memories come, like he’d requested them or somethin.

Her finger tracing invisible letters onto him; inking her name into his skin.

_One day you’re going to tell me about all your tattoos_, she’d said. _One day_, like they had some kinda future.

With a grunt he forces his eyes closed, forces his brain to stop. And it does, but not without one last reminder.

_No one’s there to miss you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, lol, this chapter was supposed to contain one Rio POV paragraph, like in other chapters. Then I for some reason thought '...What if we could follow Rio for a whole day?'. And no matter what I did, I couldn't rid myself of that very dangerous idea that resulted in the most difficult-to-write, labour-intensive and time-consuming chapter 😅😅 (Also, spending over a week living in Rio's head was... interesting.)
> 
> I'm really curious to hear your thoughts :)


	10. Go Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the worst headache, it's late at night, and AO3 is screwing me around, so please forgive any leftover mistakes, I didn't get to go over it as thoroughly as I normally try to, but I really wanted to get this to you guys today after all the lovely feedback you left for me on the last chapter. Thank you so much, it really meant the world to me xx

It’s launch day.

Beth studies herself in the mirror. She’s wearing a lightweight top instead of a blouse, something different and a little playful. It’s black but floral and off the shoulder, and she’s paired it with a tight black skirt that just makes it to her knee.

Her gaze dances over the strappy heels then the blazer on the bed that she’ll pull on if there are any formal pictures to be taken.

Ok. She can do this.

She's giving her hair one last fluff when there’s a light knock at the open French door and she turns to see Rio leaning against the doorway.

“Hi,” she breathes, immediately out of sorts.

It’s the first time she’s seen him since last week, when he’d laid out his operation for her.

His eyes take her in before he speaks.

“Tonight’s the night, huh? Go time.”

She nods as all her pride rushes back, and she’s not alone in it. A smile settles on Rio’s face that lights her up from the inside out.

“You did it.”

She nods. “One month and seventeen days.”

“I knew you could,” he continues.

“It wasn't easy,” she points out testily.

In retrospect, she’s glad for the small timeframe he’d given her – it had pushed her, and it means she can settle the Spert problem that much sooner.

But he doesn’t have to know that.

Rio shrugs, shoulders rippling against the French door.

“Nothing you crush ever is. That's why you on my team.”

She hates how nice it feels hearing that. Hates the admiration in his eyes.

_My team, my team, my team_, it seems to play on repeat in her mind, warm and glowing, the same way he’d said it.

“The winning team?” she taunts, though, taking the opportunity to mock him.

He nods, only lightly amused. “Number one.”

She rolls her eyes as his eyes roam her body again but it’s quick, just a flit, and she wonders if he even knows he’s doing it.

“Did you come to wish me luck?” she prompts.

“You need it?” he asks, dragging his gaze from her cleavage to pop a brow at her.

They’re still across the room from each other and she takes two small steps closer.

“No.”

She smiles, slow, and he echoes it.

His eyes run over her again and then he pulls his lip into his mouth.

“A’ight.”

With that, he turns, and Beth finds herself calling him back.

“Rio.”

He pauses, looking at her over his shoulder.

“Thank you.”

“What for?” he frowns.

She shrugs a little. “It was your idea.”

“Was it?”

_This was your idea; are you changing your mind?_

_Oh, it was?_

He smirks, teasing, and she smiles back then watches him walk away.

Returning to the mirror, she takes one last look with a long breath.

Go time.

* * *

“And so I want to thank each one of you for being here tonight. Please feel free to spend time, enjoy and – most importantly – keep your eye on that one special car. Keep in mind that tonight-only discount or, if you’re not quite sure, we’ll have opening specials for the next week. Again, thank you so much and enjoy the snacks, I made them myself.”

There’s applause and Beth holds her champagne flute up for the cameras, smiling.

She goes off to the side of the stage to take pictures with Dean then promptly discards the sparkling wine and begins working the room.

_Shakin hands; kissin asses_, Rio had called it.

And it is a little annoying, but it also feels good. Because it’s not her first time doing this – but in the past, it had been as a wife. _Please support my husband, help him earn us a living_, she’d felt like she was pleading, going around the room. _If I smile sweet enough, I’ll have done my job for the night_.

Tonight’s different. Tonight it’s hers, the fruits of her effort, and she’s not begging anyone for money. The spotlight is hers and it feels good.

Dean is the support, this time. Every now and then she’ll call him and he’ll jog over to explain specs, but it’s her who comes back with a contract, who pats the buyer on the back as they sign on the dotted line.

When she has a moment away from selling, she gives the two journalists in attendance interviews, answers questions about the food and whether she does catering, checks on the kids in the play area, and now and then finds a moment to chat with the girls.

She’s coming back from making sure that the waitresses – who are really just teens Ruby had found through Sara’s friends’ siblings – are refreshing their platters often enough. That’s when she sees her.

Beth stops dead, heart beating fast.

She tries to catch Annie or Ruby’s eyes and eventually the former catches on, following Beth’s gaze. Her sister’s eyes widen, and she mouths to come over in a minute. Then she walks forward.

“Agent Spert, hello.”

The FBI agent turns from looking at a hatchback.

She still has that intense gaze that Beth doesn’t blame Annie for being terrified of.

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I gatecrashing?”

She forces a smile. “Not at all. Are you interested in a car?”

“Let’s say I am,” she smiles, but it’s not friendly. “But for some reason, you weren’t interested in selling it to me. Wouldn’t that be strange?”

Beth’s smile tightens. “I’ll always do what’s in my best interest.”

“Funny, most people usually think of not going to prison as being in their best interest.”

She’s not smiling anymore.

“I’m not going to prison.”

“Really?” She looks around the new dealership, milling with people. “Because it looks to me like you’re just digging yourself in deeper.”

“And it looks to me like you’re desperate,” Beth snaps. “Let me guess: all those other dominoes aren’t falling quite as easily as you expected them to?”

Her eye ticks and Beth wonders whether she’s right – does Spert… _need _her?

Just then Annie joins them, levelling the other woman with a glare.

“Spert,” she greets as if she’s her nemesis.

“Misjudging the vast capabilities of the car you’re interested in is a common mistake,” Beth says, smile returning saccharine. “Annie, why don’t you go get Dean so he can give Agent Spert all the information she needs about this hatchback?”

_And stick to Dean’s side_, she tells Annie with her eyes.

Her sister nods and goes off in search of Dean.

“You’re the one making a mistake, Beth. You know the saying – the higher you rise, the harder you fall.”

She folds her arms. “I don’t plan to fall.”

“No one ever does. They just wake up every morning in their cell, slip their feet into their standard-issue shoes and regret the day they didn’t take the deal.”

Beth swallows a breath and Spert takes an intimidating step closer.

“You think you’re smarter than me, but you’re not. You think you can exhaust me, but you can’t. All you’ve done is give me a better challenge.”

Suddenly Dean arrives in full salesman mode, grinning and immediately chattering about the car in front of them, and Beth easily slips away.

Shaking, she heads to the staff bathroom.

She splashes cold water on her face, trying to get her heart to stop pounding.

She knows. Spert knows about Beth’s plan, or at least she suspects. What if she somehow manages to reel more people and money into her operation? It wouldn’t be a shell game anymore; it would just mean that she gets to take down two dealerships instead of one.

_The higher you rise, the harder you fall._

Beth closes her eyes and takes two deep breaths. Then another two.

She has to get back out there. Disappearing like this only seems more suspicious.

She heads out of the bathroom slowly, feeling a little unsteady on her heels, like all the adrenaline of the day has been sapped from her bones. She wants to crawl into bed; she wants to disappear beneath a blanket; hide from all the messes she’s made.

Then she sees him.

Beth’s heart falls into her stomach and she nearly chokes on her words.

“Christopher, hi.”

He frowns but it’s amused, and she rushes toward him, desperate to get him out of sight of the showroom. He isn’t exactly, depending on the angle, but she starts tugging him urgently away anyway.

He’s incredibly heavy, though, not helping her much, and she presses in to glare at him.

“What the hell are you doing here, Rio?” she whisper-shouts.

But his eyes are unfocused as he searches for an answer, and suddenly she realises the kitchen is closer than the backdoor and she pivots then tugs him towards it.

He’s a little more willing now, so they get there quickly.

“Get out and tell Whitney not to come in here either,” she says to one of the waiters, who gives the both of them a look then shrugs and goes off.

Beth tugs Rio into the kitchen then shuts the door behind them. There’s a little snowed-over window beside it so you can’t see anything from either way, but you can make out the shapes of people. She can use it to gauge if anyone’s coming.

Rio settles against the counter beside the espresso machine and she levels him with a look.

“I thought you said you didn’t want to come.”

He smirks. “Yeah, but then I figured new office, new odds.”

_0 for 2 in this fuckin place_

She tries not to flush and he watches her, pleased. Squaring her shoulders, she steps nearer with a clear of her throat.

“You're drunk.”

“Lil bit, yeah.”

“Why do you keep doing this?”

“What?”

“Coming to me when you're like this.”

He looks at her, several thoughts passing through his eyes that she can’t read before he turns his head so she can only see ticking jaw.

She thinks he’ll say something but he doesn’t, so she does instead.

“You can’t be here.”

“Why?” he turns back. “’Cuz you don’t want your fancy friends knowin who you in business with?”

She grits her teeth. “Those aren’t my friends, they’re my customers. The people who are going to allow the cover for our business.”

_And an FBI agent who wants to arrest you._

“Meanin this my party too.”

Shit. She struggles for another reason then immediately lands on one.

“Dean’s here,” she pleads.

“Yo, fuck Dean, man,” he spits. “_Who_ the fuck _gives a fuck_ about his cheatin ass?”

“I just don’t want there to be a scene.”

He looks at her, instantly mollified, then out the small window before sinking closer to the counter.

“_I_ ain’t startin nothin,” he sniffs. “I know how hard you worked for this, ma.”

She lets out a breath, thankful, even as her mind races. What’s going to be easier? Getting him out? Getting him sober and then out? Just staying in here with him? But no, to that last one – Spert will just get suspicious. Beth needs to be out there.

“If I make you a coffee, will you drink it?”

He rolls his eyes with a wave of his hand, which she takes as a yes, so she steps forward to start working.

“Still so many buttons,” he muses, watching, and she smiles.

Then she freezes. They’re nearly pressed up against each other and he’s begun lightly running his fingers over her side – from just under her breast to her hip then back up.

Her skirt is tight and her blouse is paper-thin – it feels like his touch is on her skin.

“Speakin o’ buttons… You look real fuckin good tonight, momma.”

She meets his eyes and they’re burning, setting her alight.

Not really thinking, she turns away from the coffee machine, towards him, and his other hand comes up to her fringe, slowly pressing it out of the way.

Her eyes flutter closed for a second. It’s been so long since he’s touched her like this.

The tips of his two fingers run down her face, sending a shiver down her spine.

Then, slowly, her eyes open. 

His other hand comes to a stop, settles on her waist, and then he applies a little bit of pressure. Beth goes with it, letting him nudge her nearer as he makes room for her between his legs. 

But, a step away, she brings herself to a stop.

“You’re drunk.”

“So?”

“And I can’t do this now.”

There’s a desperation in her voice even she can hear. There’s no lock on the kitchen door – what if Spert comes looking for her? What if she finds out exactly why Beth won’t give him up?

_I_ _didn’t tell you to get into bed with a gangster._

She doesn’t yet know how right she’d been. And if she does, what then? What if it makes everything ten times worse?

_You know what we doin here is dangerous, right?_

“You didn’t drive here, did you?”

The machine beeps, done making his coffee, and she steps away to collect it as he shakes his head.

“Naw.”

“Give me your phone, let me get you an Uber or something.”

To her surprise, he does get out his phone, unlocks it, and they exchange the objects they’re holding, him watching her over the rim of the cup as she finds his Uber app.

She finds out very quickly that he doesn’t have a home address saved and she huffs.

“I don’t know where you live.”

This is a sore topic between the two of them so she doesn’t meet his eyes, but when he doesn’t reply after a few seconds, she looks up to find him smirking.

It set her off-kilter, and that’s before he speaks.

“Why don’t you take me home, Elizabeth?”

“I-I…” she stutters, cheeks hot. “I can’t leave right now.”

“That’s cool,” he says easily.

His smirk disappears behind the cup as he takes a long sip of the coffee.

“You’re gonna wait for me?” she asks in disbelief. “In here?”

And… he’s going to let her see where he stays? And what then?

Just the thought sends heat between her legs, not helped by the way he’s looking at her.

“Told you I can be patient when it’s worth the wait, mami.”

She swallows.

“Ok. I’ll take you home.”

If she can find a way to get rid of Spert, then Ruby and Annie can take care of the rest of the night.

“But you still haven’t told me why you came here.”

Watching him, she notes something tucked into his eyes, some kind of intent, but he hides it as he takes another sip.

On instinct she takes a step closer, their knees touching.

It forces him to acknowledge her and he seems to chew back the words before they come out anyway.

“Maybe I wanted to talk to ya.”

“About what?” she frowns.

“…My sister said sum’n the other day.”

What could she possibly have said that would have anything to do with Beth? She’s pretty sure that nobody in his real life – besides Marcus – even knows she exists.

“Ok…”

He hesitates in continuing, setting down his cup, and Beth watches in befuddlement. What could he need to say to her? What had his sister said?

He looks about to speak when suddenly there’s a crash from outside. It sounds like glasses – probably one of her inexperienced waiters dropping a platter of champagne flutes – and she instantly rocks away from Rio.

People will definitely come looking for her now.

“Give me ten minutes, ok?” she asks, handing back his phone.

Taking it, he nods, and she rushes out of the kitchen wondering what he has to talk to her about; looking forward to their car ride.

* * *

Beth realises very quickly that she’s not going to be out of here in ten minutes.

The waitress is crying, two people had cut themselves, and the party needs reviving.

She grabs her sister. “I need your help.”

“Ok?”

“Our… friend is here.”

“_What_?” Annie thankfully catches her meaning immediately. “What’s he doing here?”

Beth sighs. “He’s drunk–”

“_Oh_,” Annie’s face goes from concerned to amused. “I see, it’s a booty call.”

“Oh my god,” she gasps. “It’s not.”

“Uh huh, ok. So where is he?”

“In the kitchen, he asked me to drive him home–”

“Because it’s a booty call.”

“But I need to take care of this.”

“Look, Beth, I can’t screw him for you. God knows he’s the hottest bottle of hot sauce, but I don’t do your leftovers and besides, I’m pretty sure he’d notice I’m not you.”

Beth glares. “Spert is still here, ok? I need you to go keep him in the kitchen and make sure no one sees him until I get there.”

“Seriously, _only you_ would delegate a booty call.”

“IT’S NOT A BOOTY CALL!”

People turn to look and she smiles apologetically before clearing her throat and pulling her sister away a little more.

“Can you do this or not?!”

“Yes! Jesus.”

* * *

It’s just over ten minutes later when she finally has everything sorted.

Whitney – the waitress who had dropped the tray – has now stopped crying, the wounded are patched up and the party is back on, Spert’s eyes on her every chance she can get.

But she’d found a back room to console Whitney in and she rubs the girl’s back as they exit.

God, she is so ready to get out of here. There’s just one very pesky FBI agent she still has to try and get rid of.

She’s thinking about this when suddenly she comes to a stop.

She was heading past one of the long windows, back to the showroom, and something had stopped her.

She takes a moment to try and figure out what it was and, after a second, she realises: there are puffs of smoke coming from behind a wall. Annoyed, Beth opens the door and heads out. She’d already mentioned where guests could smoke, and it wasn’t there.

God, if things could just stop going wrong, that’d be great. 

She rounds the corner and it feels like lightning hits her.

“Nico.”

He smiles at her, dropping his cigarette.

“And I was just about to head in.”

Where Rio and Spert are. Oh, God.

“What do you want?”

He laughs. “A phone, Beth, a phone. Remember that?”

She shifts her weight between her feet.

“I told you it wouldn’t be easy to get.”

But… isn’t it?

Just now, she’d asked him for it and he’d just handed it over. Unlocked and everything. Was he just drunk? Or does he really trust her that much?

“And I gave you time,” Nico nods. “Now it’s up.”

She looks back at the dealership, anxious. Nico hasn’t moved yet, meaning that he should still be impossible to see from the inside. But if anyone came outside…

He follows her gaze. “Nice place you got here.”

“It’s my husband’s,” she says quickly.

“Huh,” he notes, looking down at her hand. “You don’t wear a ring.”

“We’re separated.”

She doesn’t know why she keeps lying, she only knows that she has to stop him from going inside.

“Did you lie to him too?”

“I never said I could get you the phone. In fact, I said I couldn’t.”

“You also said you were capable.”

He makes to move closer but she blocks his way, cutting him off.

“How stupid do you think I am?”

His eyes widen a little. “Excuse me?”

“You look at me and you see a suburban mother who doesn’t know anything about this world, so you think you can tell me to take someone like Rio’s phone and I’ll just do it? Then you get it, Rio kills me when he finds out what I did, and you win doubly because you can’t give a corpse a job, can you?”

The adrenaline is back, pounding through her.

She doesn’t even know if what she’d just said makes sense or is anywhere near true. All she knows is that she can’t let Spert or Rio see him.

_If you mess up like that, you go to jail or you die._

Nico looks like he doesn’t quite know what to do with this accusation. He swallows, takes a breath, then seems to finally find his voice again.

“Ok, if you really think it’s too dangerous, I could get you a cloning device–”

“No, I’m going to tell you what you’re going to do,” she snaps. “You’re going to stop disrespecting me, turn around, and get off my property. Now.”

She points in the direction she needs him to go and his eyes harden.

But, after a second, he leaves.

Beth lets herself breathe.

* * *

She has to go through the showroom to get to the kitchen and she frowns when she catches sight of Annie.

“Spert left!” Ruby grins when she gets to them.

“Weirdly, I think she may actually really want to buy that car,” Annie frowns.

“What are you doing here??” she hisses. “You were supposed to be watching him!”

“Who?” her frown deepens for a second, then: “Oh, gangfriend?” Shrugging, she shakes her head. “Nope, bro was gone when I got there.”

Beth feels knocked back.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean he must’ve left, I never saw him.”

“You’re sure?”

“Unless there’s more than one kitchen in this place?”

Beth shakes her head. There isn’t. He’d left.

* * *

* * *

**Beth's outfit: **

** **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 👀👀


	11. Thursday at 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 😂 I love hearing your thoughts, thank you so much for all the comments on the last chapter, your reactions make my day!

1:58PM.

Beth’s watching the clock when there’s a knock at the door and she jumps up.

“Hi, Miss Beth,” Marcus grins up at her when she opens the door.

“Hi, buddy. You’re right on time.”

He grins. “I keep daddy punctu-punctu–”

“Punctual?” she helps him along, and he nods happily. “Good word,” she praises with a smile.

Her eyes go up to Rio but he’s not looking at her.

“Keep practisin that one, Pop.”

“Well, come on in,” she says, standing aside.

There’s something about the way he’s still not looking at her that’s getting under her skin.

“Yea, I’m not stayin.”

This seems to be no surprise to Marcus, who takes his bag from his father and passes through the doorway.

She clears her throat.

“Marcus, would you give us a minute? Everyone else is out back.”

He nods and she waits until he’s disappeared out the back door before turning back to Rio.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothin,” he says, finally reluctantly looking at her.

“You haven’t been answering my calls,” she points out.

Two whole days of trying to figure out what had happened that night, why he’d left. But he hadn’t cancelled on today so she’d re-stocked on his favourite tea and made spaghetti, looking forward to them getting to talk.

“Been busy.”

“Is that why you aren’t staying, because you’re busy?”

He stares her down but she doesn’t relent, and eventually he looks away, shooting a pointed gaze around.

“I should get goin, your people gonna wonder what someone like me’s doin on your front porch.”

_Someone like me _

For a second she can’t breathe.

Then: “I don’t care about them.”

His eyes search her face while his remains unreadable. Then he rolls his shoulders.

“Well, I gotta go anyway.”

“You said you were free now,” she points out, more than a little irritably.

He clicks his tongue. “Things change. And Marcus was the one you missed, ain’t it?”

She doesn’t know what to say to this, and he twists on his heel. He’s gotten down the steps when she forces herself to move, going after him.

“Can you just tell me what I did?!”

He stops, back straight.

“Who said you did sum’n?” he asks, voice so low she barely catches it.

“Why else are you being like this?”

She’s sure he’s going to walk away but then he turns, slowly.

“You don’t gotta worry.”

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t gotta worry,” he repeats, a bit louder. “Next time I’m fucked up, I won’t come to you.”

_Why do you keep doing this?_

_What?_

_Coming to me when you're like this._

She doesn’t know what to say, but it doesn’t matter. In a second he’s disappeared into his car and then he’s speeding away.

* * *

She’s trying really hard not to cry.

She’d gotten through the afternoon by not thinking about it; staying busy. She’d played with the kids and answered all their questions, cleaned up messes, fed them and, in Emma’s case, bathed them. Now they’re all piled in front of the TV and she’d tried watching too but finally her thoughts had caught up to her, ear-splitting in the relative quiet.

So she’d pulled away, shut herself in her bedroom for a moment so she can think. She’s sitting on her bed with her head in her hands and Beth really doesn’t want to cry because it won’t help. It won’t help because she wouldn’t know why she’s crying.

Because he’s upset with her? But he’s not, not really. He’d spoken with her and still brought Marcus over. There hadn’t been anger in the set of his shoulders or curl of his lip – she knows him well enough by now.

Because he hadn’t stayed? But she should be used to the disappointment by now; to things never going as planned whenever he’s involved.

Because he’d implied that next time he’s drunk, he’ll go to someone else?

Her heart aches, and tears are about to come when there’s a sudden small knock on the door.

She takes a deep breath then looks up.

“Come in.”

It’s Marcus.

“Hi, what’s wrong?”

He looks about to speak, but then his eyes take her in.

She waits to hear what he’ll have to say – had someone fallen asleep funny? Is there a remote-control dispute? Is he hungry? – so she can fix whatever the problem is.

But, without a word, Marcus clicks the door closed behind him then comes over to her and curls his tiny arms around her neck.

For a second Beth just sits in silent shock.

Then she wraps her arms around his slim body and ducks her head.

Slowly, silently, the tears trickle out.

He doesn’t move, just holds her, and she doesn’t let herself remember his father holding her like this, scared she’ll sob.

After a few minutes, when the tears have dried up, she pulls away.

She feels embarrassed, not sure what to say, but Marcus just cocks his head at her.

“Do you wanna make cookies, Miss Beth?”

She bursts into laughter, remembering how once she’d offered him that salve.

“I’d like nothing better in the world, Marcus.”

* * *

“And then he just dipped??” Annie asks.

“If that means left, then yes.”

“He didn’t say why?” Ruby wonders.

She shakes her head then shrugs. “Marcus said something about a couch guy he had to go see.”

“A _couch guy_? Wow, that’s the lamest lie I’ve ever heard in my life.”

Beth says nothing, topping up her wine glass as Annie goes for another cookie.

The kids are all in bed, Marcus having left an hour ago. Rio had showed up at six on the dot, so Marcus’ keen eye on the clock meant he hadn’t had to come to the door. Marcus had collected his bag, laid a kiss on Beth’s cheek then skipped out the door and straight into the Cadillac.

“Ok, these cookies are like your best batch ever,” Annie says around crumbs.

“Marcus helped,” she says, barely processing the compliment.

“No way. There’s no way that kid’s allowed to have miraculous baking fingers too.”

“Beth, are you ok?” Ruby asks, worried.

“I’m fine, I’m just…” She wipes her hands over her face then huffs out a breath. “I’m just really worried about Spert. What she said the other night at the launch.”

They exchange glances like they know this isn’t what she’s really worried about, but that isn’t exactly true. It's not the first thing on her list, but she really is concerned about Spert’s level of determination. She hadn’t seemed thrown off her game much and Beth isn’t sure whether it had been a front or not.

“Are you reconsidering your shell game?” Ruby asks eventually, seemingly deciding to go along with this line of conversation.

She looks at Annie. “Did Noah say anything about her amount of pull? Could she get more agents involved without any evidence if she really wanted to?”

Her sister shrugs. “No clue.”

She lets out a breath. “We need to find out.”

Annie throws up her hands.

“Or – here’s an idea – we _tell Rio_! The guy’s dangerous and connected up to the Wazoo. Maybe he can make her go away.”

“Or he could make _us_ go away,” Ruby reminds.

“The guy’s obsessed with Beth, he isn’t just gonna kill us!”

“I’m glad you’re so sure,” Beth scoffs. “Because last time I checked, that guy who’s so obsessed with me screened my calls for two days then left me on my front porch like last week’s laundry.”

This causes a short awkward silence before Annie huffs.

“Maybe if you’d tell us what he said the other night, we could try to work out what made him act so weird.”

“He didn’t say anything! Everything was fine – he asked me to take him home, I asked him to give me ten minutes, he agreed and then he left.”

There’s silence again as this re-stumps them all.

“Maybe he’s just sick of you giving him blue balls,” Annie suggests, which they ignore.

“Have you tried calling him?” Ruby asks.

She’d thought about it, but…

“I don’t wanna talk to him.”

“Great,” Annie rolls her eyes. “Now we have the Cold War going on between the only two people who can stop us from ending up behind bars.”

That’s how she snaps.

“You know what? Tell him.”

“What?” Annie blinks back.

“Tell him! Go ahead, do it. I don’t want to make any decisions anymore. You do it. Call him and tell him, I don’t care anymore. I’m done.”

Slamming down her wine glass so hard it wobbles, Beth jumps up then heads into the kitchen. She rips open the dishwasher to begin emptying it so she can put the next load in.

They come in a few seconds after her, Annie looking like a deer in headlights.

“You can’t just say that, Beth.”

“Why not?” she turns on her. “You’re always arguing with me, always saying I’m doing everything wrong, so I’m stepping back. You do whatever you think is right and I’ll fall in line.”

Neither of them say anything for several seconds and she spins back around, placing each dish on the counter with a bang.

“Don’t you think you’re a little old to be throwing your toys out of the cot?” Annie points out, arms now folded stubbornly.

She laughs and it’s hollow. “That’s the difference between us, Annie. I never _got _to throw my toys out of the cot because I was too busy putting you in it. I’m sorry, ok?” She doesn’t realise she’s crying till she tastes the salt at her lips. “I’m sorry I don’t always know the right answer to everything but I’m doing the best I can, the only way I know how! Nobody taught me how to do this, any of this, just like nobody taught me how to be a mom at ten years old!”

Ruby’s at her side suddenly, pulling her to her, and for the longest while Beth just sobs into her best friend’s familiar shoulder.

Eventually, when she’s calmed down, when her body’s stopped racking, Ruby speaks.

“You’re doing great, sweetie.”

Laughter bubbles up from Beth’s stomach and then they’re all laughing and when she pulls away, she realises Annie’s come around to her side of the counter too so they’re flanking her.

“But seriously though, Beth,” Ruby shakes her head. “I don’t know, I guess we just argue so much because you make it all look so easy. But we couldn’t do what you do; make the decisions you’ve had to.”

“She’s right,” Annie nods, pulling a face. “I had to be you for like a week after the whole judge thing and it was literally the worst thing ever.”

“Thanks,” Beth says dryly, rolling her eyes.

Annie looks remorseful, though, coming closer.

“I’m sorry, ok?” she sighs. “Ruby’s right – you _are_ doing a good job. I mean, we haven’t been arrested yet and I think that’s a fair measurement. We’re the Dream Team, right? All three of us is what makes it work,” she says, beginning to point at them. “We _need_ a paranoid sceptic, we _need_ a ridiculously cute out-of-the-box thinker, and we need a bossypants who can make all the horrible dilemma decisions no one else wants to make.”

They shake their heads at her in bemusement.

“And if you think telling Rio is the wrong play, then we support you,” Ruby nods. “We support you no matter what.”

“Thanks, guys,” she smiles a little. “But I just… I don’t know whether any of it is worth it anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, why?” She lets out a long breath. “Why am I doing this, any of it? I agreed to a partnership in a syndicate I know nothing about with a man I know nothing about, all for… what?”

There’s a long silence. Then Annie shifts.

“Maybe because – for once – you’re doing something for yourself.”

She scoffs. “Not even that makes sense – why would I do this to myself? Am I really that much of a masochist?”

“Sometimes we hate the things we like equally as much,” Ruby points out.

Beth thinks about this. Then she shakes her head, jaw set.

“Well, the thing I like is going to send us all to prison.”

There’s another few minutes of silence, thicker than before as they all consider this.

She wonders whether Rio will allow her to pull out of their partnership. But she has a brand new second dealership and before Rio, the first one wasn’t even profitable. She’d opened this second one knowing money would be coming.

They’ll go bankrupt.

But… maybe that’s worth it. Worth being out; worth not going to prison.

“Hey, whatever happened to gangfriend’s nemesis?”

Beth’s eyes shoot to her sister as Ruby frowns.

“_Who_?”

“Nico,” Beth breathes.

“Yeah, remember – he, like, _freaked_ thinking he was going after his kid. Is he still in town?”

Beth hesitates before forcing a jerky shrug.

“I don’t know.”

“Why?” Ruby wonders.

“Seems to me like we just need gangfriend out of the picture – in a way that doesn’t get us arrested too,” Annie says. “Spert specifically said that she wants him, not Beth.”

“Seriously? Remember the last time we tried to get rid of him?”

“But now we know him better, we know how to really get to him.”

“I swear to God, if you say hitman or mind control…”

“No, the nemesis!” she exclaims. “Nemesis dethrones gangfriend, Beth takes his place, Spert’s no longer interested and we get to do business on our own terms. Win-win win-win win.”

“You think he’s _just_ going to dethrone him?”

Beth hasn’t said anything in a while and now Annie shoots her a quick cautious look as she bites on her lip.

“…Ours is not to reason about the possible outcomes of turf wars.”

_To be the king, you gotta kill the king_.

Ruby shoots her a look too, but her face must be blank because her best friend sighs heavily.

“I mean, it’s not your _worst_ idea ever, but we can’t exactly put an ad on Craigslist for a gangfriend nemesis.”

“Yeah,” Annie sighs too. “Back to the drawing board.”

But Beth doesn’t need to go back to the drawing board.

She only needs to go to her cellphone and scroll, to where his number is saved under _Pink Roses._

* * *

Beth undoes the belt on her coat as she enters the diner.

She’s surprised to see Nico already there, tucked into a booth where he’s hidden from anyone looking in from outside.

“You’re here,” she says when she gets to him.

“You said you had an expiring offer and you were only waiting an hour.”

She nods, taking off her coat.

“I wasn’t going to wait for you for another month.”

Nico smiles a little. “Fair enough.”

He’s uncertain about her, she can tell. Once bitten, twice shy. She’s going to have to prove herself to him somehow.

She slides in first her coat then her handbag and herself.

The waiter comes, pours them each a cup of coffee then leaves.

“I’m sorry about the other day,” she starts. “But, in my defence, you offered me a job and then, when I accepted, completely changed it around on me.”

“I did?” he frowns.

“Yes. You said you wanted information, you said I’d be safe. Then you asked me to do something that was neither of those things.”

He considers this for a moment then nods, short glossy curls bouncing.

“You’re right. I’m sorry too.”

Beth wobbles a little, not really sure what to do with this. She can’t imagine what the same words from Rio’s mouth would even sound like.

“I want to assure you, though,” Nico continues, “that it was never about getting you killed. I suppose… I just got greedy.”

She shakes her head. “You underestimated me and you wanted a shortcut. I suppose it’s understandable. But what _you_ need to understand is that there _is_ no shortcut. You think you’re careful? Rio’s doubly so. And his operation is tight, clasped in his very iron fist.”

He nods thoughtfully.

“But he trusts you?”

She thinks of him easily handing her his phone; of every other time he’d proven it.

_If you ain’t comfortable doing something, we ain’t doin it._

“He does.”

He watches her then sits back.

“Then let’s hear your offer.”

She shakes her head slowly; deliberately.

“It’s _your _offer.” At his frown: “You said you wanted an inside man.”

His nod is uncertain, but he agrees: “I did.”

Beth takes a long, deep breath. After this, it all changes. She can’t take any of it back.

“The new dealership? It’s mine, not my husband’s. And it’s all a front, just like its sister. Rio uses it to move product. I know where he gets it from, I know his suppliers, I know where they’re going and I know who’s taking it there and when.”

Nico’s eyes have widened – it’s exactly the proof she needed to give him.

She settles back in her seat, hoping she’s exuding that same intimidating calm that Rio practically has trademarked.

“I’m not his secretary – I can’t you get his cellphone or his day planner or his PDA. But I can get you information.”

_Ours is not to reason about the possible outcomes of turf wars._

She folds her hands.

“So I guess the only question left is: do you still want to take down Rio?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * goes into witness protection *


	12. A Pretty Luxury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having a pretty miserable and intense week and I felt like the last chapter made a lot of you guys really miserable, so I wanted to put this one out in case it helps at all!

Beth pours out her fourth bourbon.

Is this what it feels like to cheat? she wonders. She certainly feels like Nico is her mistress. It’s been two weeks. She’s been his inside man for two weeks and she feels dirty; ashamed. She almost wants to call Dean to ask him, compare notes, but even her half-tipsy mind doubts that’d go well.

Suddenly the kitchen door opens and Beth’s neck snaps up, terror darting into her veins.

It’s Rio.

She swallows, not knowing what to do; whether to be at ease or not.

She’s seen him here and there, caught a glimpse of him or spoken business for a few minutes at the dealership.

But she can’t help it. The guilt is always fresh and so every time she thinks _This time, he’ll know._

But he smiles. “Hey.”

“Hi.” She clears her throat. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugs. “Need a drink.”

His eyes go down to the bottle in her hand and her cheeks pink at him having found her in the exact situation he suspected he would.

She gets out another glass even as she glares.

“You couldn’t go to a bar for that?”

“Bar ain’t as reliable as you, mami,” he taunts, only enhancing her glare. But then he doesn’t look so amused anymore: “’Sides, I can’t talk to a bartender ’bout this stuff.”

“What stuff?” she frowns, handing him the drink.

Coming closer, he takes it, and in the direct kitchen light she can see how worried he looks.

“One of our cars got taken.” He takes a sip. “_Another_ one, guess I should say.”

Oh, god.

She swallows.

“Another one?”

He nods. “Third in two weeks.”

“And you’re only telling me this now?”

It had been like sending her tips off into the ether. Nico would just send her a thumbs-up emoji and she would never know if it had proven effective or not.

Now she knows.

“I been scarce, right? Tryna figure it out.”

“And?” She swallows. “Have you?”

He shakes his head. “Not really, naw.”

“Are they getting arrested?”

She has nearly double as many drivers to keep track of now, and sometimes Rio will send her last-minute once-off replacements, but she doesn’t recall any of the regulars being missing for more than a day.

“Uh uh. Just their product stolen.”

“So it’s another gang?”

His face twists but he nods.

Beth hesitates, rocking a little, then swallows.

“Nico?”

He squints, frowning. “…Why would you think that?”

Oh, god.

She tries to have no reaction, expression blank.

“You said that his people are the only ones in Detroit you don’t control.”

“Oh, yeah, no,” he shakes his head. “That ain’t how things work, honey. This ain’t Google, we ain’t havin inter-departmental meetings and shit. Some fool coulda done it not even knowin he stealin from the boss of his boss’ boss.”

She absorbs this, heartrate slowing down a little.

“What about our customers?”

“Fuckin pissed,” he says through his teeth before taking another gulp.

“That’s not good.”

But it is. The more customers they lose, the more Nico can take them over.

“Ya don’t say,” he bites.

“But you’ve got a plan?”

She can tell from the set in his shoulders; the look in his eyes.

“Kinda.”

“What is it?”

“We got a mole.”

Her blood freezes.

“No,” she manages to say.

He shakes his head. “Gotta be. Only thing that makes sense anymore.”

She takes a small breath. Then: “So?”

“So I gotta flush it out.”

“How?”

“By flushin it out.”

She stares at him. “You’re gonna hold a gun to their heads till someone speaks up?”

He shrugs. “Works.”

“Does it? Or will it mean they’ll all just feel like you don’t trust them, and pretty soon you have an insurrection on your hands?”

He considers her, finger slowly tracing the rim of his glass.

Then he smirks, amused: “Whatchu know about all o’ that?”

She tosses her hair. “I watch movies.”

“Yeah?” he asks, brow cocked. “You wanna watch one now?”

It takes her aback.

Ever since the playdate, he’d expressed no interest in being around her any longer than he had to.

But he seems serious, gesturing to the TV behind him.

“No,” she says. Beth draws a breath. “But I have an episode of the Real Housewives.”

It’s what she would’ve done tonight anyway, she tells herself.

And, moreover, she needs to stall him.

“You watch that shit?”

“I do.”

He pulls his lip into his mouth for a second before rolling his shoulders.

“A’ight.”

She doesn’t quite trust it, but when she rounds the counter, he follows her, and soon they’re settling on the couch as she pulls up the episode.

It starts but Beth isn’t paying it any attention – her mind is split by two things. Firstly, how she can stop his plan to find the mole. How long until he realises it’s none of them?

Secondly – the way they’re seated. There’s too much space between them and it feels conspicuous, like the couch is yelling at them about it and she’s just turned the TV up loud enough so they won’t hear.

She finally tunes in when she realises Rio is reacting, seemingly invested. He scoffs here and there; shakes his head or rolls his eyes.

Then he laughs outright and she smiles, seeing it. 

“Thought it’s ‘shit’?” she points out loftily when commercials start.

“Yeah,” he nods, adamant. “Never said it wasn’t entertaining shit.”

She rolls her eyes but is still smiling as she fast-forwards to get them back to the episode.

A fight breaks out between one of the wives and her husband. They’re standing near a pool and the camerawork keeps suggesting the husband’s going to push her.

“Don’t fuckin do it, man,” Rio advises. “You mess with the hair and it’s over.”

Before Beth can say anything, he’s gone ahead and done it – she’s in the pool and looking ready to murder.

“Yeah, you’ll live to regret that shit,” he scoffs.

Now she has to.

“You know about the law against pushing women into pools?”

Dean had nearly done it to her once, at one of his family member’s birthday parties, and they’d fought about it all the way home.

“I got sisters, mami. That shit’ll get you ex-communicated and off Christmas lists real fast.”

“Speaking from personal experience?” she asks, teasing but genuinely curious.

It’s incredibly rare to get personal stories out of him.

“Don’t gotta; that’s what dumbass cousins are for.”

“Oh no...” her hands come up to her eyes.

“Uh huh. Been ten years and whenever we do lunch at Carla’s, cousin Armand still gotta dish last. After the kids.”

She giggles and Rio looks amused too, shaking his head.

“You kick a cousin off a Christmas list?” he asks.

“No, but Dean once tried to do it to me.”

“Yeah? What happened?”

“Annie came running and pushed him in instead.”

He grins, likely imagining the absurdity of her tiny sister vaulting her very tall ex into a swimming pool. And, yeah, it _had_ been hilarious.

“Musta been a sight.”

“It was,” she laughs. “I think we have it on video somewhere.”

They chat a bit more like this as the episode progresses before they get into light-hearted debates about which women is in the right.

By the time it’s over, she’s nearly forgotten about why he’s here.

Nearly.

She flips channels for a while, avoiding his gaze, as she tries to think of the right way to say this. Finally she lands on a movie about to begin. The description says it’s about a woman involved in underground crime falling in love with a policeman.

Nibbling on her lip, she shoots Rio a glance. He nods almost imperceptibly and she stands.

“Want popcorn?”

“Uh huh,” he nods.

She heads into the kitchen. “I think we may be out of lightly salted.”

“Butter’s cool,” he says, following.

She finds the packet then pops it into the microwave. Two minutes.

She bites at the inside of her cheek.

One minute thirty.

_If somethin don't exist then you gotta create it, baby, that's how it works. Make it up; make it good._

She spins around.

“I could do it.”

He frowns. “Do what?”

“Find out who the mole is.”

He considers her for a moment. Then: “This serious, Elizabeth; it ain’t some sorta project.”

“You don’t think I know that? Someone’s stealing from us and one of our people is helping them do it.” He doesn’t reply and she folds her arms. “You said I’m your partner, right? So let me be your partner.”

The microwaves goes off and he’s still thinking about it.

She gets the popcorn, upends it into a bowl then looks at him.

He sighs. “Fine. You got a week or until it happens again.”

Her heart’s beating fast but he’s looking around curiously and she frowns.

“What?”

“You got M&Ms?”

“Um.”

The question catches her by surprise almost as much as trying to find an answer for it.

Spinning, she lets her eyes wander. She has to hide it from the kids because – well, they’re kids, but also because she needs them available every now and again when she uses them in cookie batters or as cupcake toppers.

Finally she remembers the hiding place she’d chosen last time she’d gone on her snack haul and goes to collect the bag. She lifts it onto the counter and does in fact find a few bags of M&Ms inside. She passes him original and peanut butter, and he regards first them then her bag.

“You got pretzels in there?”

She goes searching and, upon pulling it out, realises that he’s emptying the M&Ms into the popcorn.

“Oh my god.”

He says nothing, just wiggling his index finger impatiently, and Beth hands over the pretzels with wide eyes then watches as he tosses those in too. She glares when he again gives her bag a curious look, and he laughs when she scoffs, ties it closed then stuffs it back into its hidey-hole.

She turns back to find him lightly shaking the bowl with an absurd amount of concentration, like there’s some perfect equilibrium he’s trying to achieve.

“Are you pregnant?”

He grins. “Don’t knock it till you tried it, ma.”

Rounding the counter, she rolls her eyes.

“Is this how Marcus likes it?”

At his name, it occurs to her that Rio must not have his son tonight. Is that why he’s here? Does he get as lonely as she does when she doesn’t have the kids? But she quickly discards this thought as he answers.

“Naw, this my sister’s special blend.”

She nearly trips over her own feet at the mention of his sister. It’s personal – his second strangely out-of-character share for the night – but there’s also _which _sister he means.

_My sister said sum’n the other day._

But Beth manages to outwardly keep her cool, his eyes on her.

“I bet your sister doesn’t have my waistline,” she points out dryly. 

It’s true – if Rio himself is anything to go by, his sisters are probably twigs compared to her, but it’s as if she’s given him permission – his eyes drop down to her waist then slowly take it in as he dances his tongue over his lip.

“I wouldn’t know. I ain’t ever looked at hers the way I do yours.”

Beth wobbles. She wants to curl up into a ball just so he can’t look at her like that anymore; so she can’t feel the warm pinpricks moving from her belly and the top of her head, as if to converge.

Forcing herself, she reaches out a hand to get some of the popcorn mix, pretending he hasn’t said anything.

It’s annoyingly delicious – the salty crunch standing up perfectly to the buttery snap and the sweet candy.

“Mmm, it’s really good.”

He still hasn’t moved his gaze.

Rio nods.

“Yeah, it is.”

She flushes then grabs the bowl from him, needing a distraction. It works – he clicks his tongue and she rolls her eyes because it’s _her bowl_ and soon the moment has passed and they’re back on the couch, Beth pressing play.

The main character’s name is Demi and she’d been born into a mob; her father is the leader’s right-hand man. She meets Josh, the cop, at a rave. He’s running a sting but she doesn’t know it, and he doesn’t know who she is. They dance and connect – it’s only after she leaves that his colleagues come in and shut the place down, even as he’s still clearly thinking about her.

Truthfully, though, only about a quarter of Beth’s mind is on the movie – it’s whirling with thoughts about the situation she’s gotten herself into.

She needs to find a patsy and fast. It’s the only real solution. But there’s little doubt about what Rio will do once he finds his mole and she can’t be responsible for an innocent person being killed because of her.

It has to look like an accident, like they’d gotten hacked or something.

And, _oh_.

She _does_ email the drivers their encoded schedules. She could ask that kid – Darren – who’d worked with Annie at Fine & Frugal. He’d helped with getting Rio’s pills out of those cars, maybe he knows someone who can make it look like one of her drivers has been getting hacked.

_If somethin don't exist then you gotta create it, baby, that's how it works. Make it up; make it good._

Make it up; make it good. Prevent someone from being killed. Prevent herself from being killed.

God. If she can just make it through her whole plan without anyone dying, she’ll be able to look herself in the mirror at the end of it. She hopes.

In her periphery she sees Rio roll his eyes and she forces herself to pay more attention to the movie.

It seems like Josh and Demi have worked out who one another is and there’s some angst surrounding it, before finally they can no longer stay away from each other and cave. That’s when Josh comes up with his plan: Demi operating as an undercover operative for him.

“Oh no, don’t do it,” Beth says, covering her eyes.

It cuts away to the next scene, though, and Rio scoffs.

“Oh, she gon’ do it.”

“She can’t, she’ll end up like that guy her father had killed earlier!”

“Sleepin wit’ the fishes?” Rio teases.

“It’s not funny! We’re forty minutes in and they’ve already killed off a dozen people; they have a worse rotten-egg policy than you do!”

Rio smirks in amusement but says nothing and within minutes, Demi has a determined expression on her face. Slowly the camera begins to pull back and it reveals that she’s being put into a bulletproof vest; being miked up as cops mill around Josh’s office nervously.

“Noooo,” she moans, then turns on Rio. “How did you know?!”

He shrugs. “She stupid for him.”

“What does that mean?”

“Means she so sprung that she’d give anything, _for_give anythin, do anything. No matter how stupid.”

He’s not wrong – in the throng of anxious activity, there are only two points of stillness in the scene: Josh and Demi, staring solidly at each other with what amounts to heart eyes. The whole room seems to be going crazy, spinning, but with their eyes on one another they seem calm, fearless.

Pausing, Beth turns to Rio.

“Can I ask you a question?”

He looks surprised but moves his gaze to her with a shrug.

“Sure.”

She nibbles at the inside of her lip for a moment, hesitant. It’s not an easy question, but it is one she’s turned around in her mind more than once.

“Does it ever scare you? What we do?”

He stares at her for a moment, considering. Once again, it’s probably not what he’d been expecting.

Eventually, after a moment, he responds.

“Sure, every now and then. But fear is a pretty luxury, momma.”

“That sounds like a line from a movie,” she points out dryly.

“You sayin I should be in Hollywood? I mean, I do got the looks for it–”

She rolls her eyes and he laughs.

After a few long seconds, Beth considers him.

“Fear isn’t a choice.”

“Said it’s a luxury. One you can’t afford when what’s standin between you puttin dinner on the table is holdin up a liquor store or a bank or whatever the fuck.”

_We’re gonna rob that store_, she remembers saying. The beginning of everything.

He reads her: “But you know a lil sum’n about that, don’tchu, darlin?”

She looks away.

“I was scared that day.”

“But it feels good too, don’t it?”

_Move it before I shoot your face off! Let’s go! NOW, NOW, NOW! _

“Maybe. A little. But mostly like you’re gonna be sick.”

“What about when you saw the money?”

“Oh, then I _definitely_ wanted to be sick.”

He throws his head back with laughter.

“How much were you expectin?”

“Annie said thirty thousand!”

This only makes him laugh harder.

“And you got five hundred gees? You musta gone so damn pale, mami,” he grins. “You did, huh?”

“Not as much as when you showed up in my kitchen.”

God. To think back to it now feels so incredibly strange. For that second – _I just need you to call your lady friends over so we can all have... a little talk _– nothing had made sense, and then it had: pay him back, don’t die and then everything will go back to normal. No robberies, no gangbangers, just struggling to stay afloat in her suburban life with her cheating husband.

Only none of it had gone that way. She’d driven back to that warehouse, taken off her pearls, and now look where she is.

Rio’s still smiling softly at her when he speaks.

“Didn’t get what I was expectin neither.”

It makes her lose her breath.

She doesn’t understand why he’s being like this all of a sudden. Two weeks of nothing – not to mention how distant he’d been that Thursday – and now this. It’s their weird seesaw again, the unbearable rollercoaster, and like usual, she’s dizzy.

Only this time she could use it to her advantage – finally find out what had happened; why he’d left the dealership that night; why he’d freaked out on her. Could.

But it’s too late; that’s not where they are anymore. She’d made a decision and she has to stick to it, no matter how many times he flips the script on her.

So, clearing her throat, she forces an air of professionalism again.

“You said you get scared sometimes.”

“Still human, ain’t I?”

_You’re scared. It’s human._

“What do you do?”

He shrugs. “Tell myself I’m not.” Then, smirking: “Tell myself fear’s a pretty luxury.”

She scoffs, but not only because he’s trying to be cutesy. Because he makes it all seem so easy and it’s not helpful. She _needs_ help; needs to know how to survive in this world.

_If you mess up like that, you go to jail or you die._

“You make it seem like everything is so incredibly simple,” she murmurs, forlorn.

He rolls his shoulders.

“That’s ‘cuz _you_ complicate everythin.”

It flips her instantly from disheartened to irritated.

“Oh, really?”

Rio’s unbothered: “Uh huh.”

She stares but he doesn’t let up and Beth pulls a face.

“Ok,” she raises a brow testily, “so what should she do right now?” she asks, jutting a finger at the TV.

It’s not like the character can just pull out now – she’d already agreed, she’s in too deep.

“Oh, she gotta drop him, real fuckin fast. He gon’ get her killed.”

“It’s way too late for that! And besides, that’s pretty hypocritical, don’t you think?” she points out with a huff. “That’s not the advice you’d give me.”

Rio shrugs. “_I_ ain’t gonna get you killed. What _you _do, that’s on you.”

_So I guess the only question left is: do you still want to take down Rio?_

Yes, it’s on her. But she knows that; it’s not the part that has her stilling.

_I ain’t gonna get you killed_, he’d stated, so certainly. Like he knows it for a fact.

She stares at him; blinks.

“Because you’re gonna keep me safe?”

He stares back; swallows.

“Said I would.”

She draws a breath. He had, but.

“That was… before.”

“So?”

“S-so…”

But she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know how to relate where they are now to where they’d been. She doesn’t know how to refute the realisation that he’s telling her he’ll protect her no matter the state of their romantic relationship. She doesn’t know how to process, without telling him, that she doesn’t deserve any of it.

“So I think you’re wrong and they're gonna end up taking down the whole mob.”

His face twists.

Then: “Sure, ’cuz it’s a movie.”

“You don’t believe in happy endings?”

“Do you?”

She thinks about this for a few seconds but, with a small breath, realises she already knows the answer.

“I think if they exist, they’re not for people like us.”

He doesn't say anything for a moment. Then, taking the remote control, he presses play.

She’s still watching him, though, not the screen, and the side of his lips tilts up in a sad smile.

“I think you’re probably right about that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your continued support! I know a lot of people peaced out with the last chapter but a lot of you also said you trust me and that really made my day, thank you!
> 
> I do have the next two chapters written but I am having the most insane work and personal week, with a family member in hospital, so I'm not sure when exactlyyyy I'll have the next chapter out, but it's definitely coming :) Thank you again and I look forward to hearing whether this chapter has adjusted your opinion in any way!


	13. Gotta Be Prepared

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the motivation and well wishes, it really meant the world to me. Tbh I would've had this up way sooner but because apparently my week wasn't miserable enough, my wifi stopped working for 6 days 🙈🙈 Buuut things are all good now and I obviously have my wifi back and here's a chapter! Hope you enjoy :)

“There she is. My fixer.”

Beth flushes as she closes the bar door behind her and heads toward him.

“Don't call me that,” she asserts.

It feels awful – him unknowingly giving her credit for undoing something she’d done.

“What, you suddenly modest?”

“I didn't do anything.”

Though that’s not entirely true, either. She’d had to do _a lot_. Getting Darren’s friend to set up malware on Jermaine’s phone, informing Nico that she had to stop with her tips because Rio was on to her, convincing Rio that it was all just a hack and no one had betrayed anyone, upping the digital security on the devices of everyone in their operation – it had been a challenge.

But she’d successfully managed to satisfy Rio that the threat had passed.

Now she just needs to figure out how to satisfy Nico’s hunger for information.

“You stopped an _insurrection_,” he teases, eyes gleaming.

She smiles but rolls her eyes, sitting.

“What are you doing behind the bar?”

“Place is closed; owner's away.”

“Meaning _you're_ not the owner?”

Rio snorts like she's somehow cracked a joke but, in classic Rio fashion, doesn't add any more information. 

“You want a bourbon?”

She hesitates – it's early – then nods.

Beth watches as he moves behind the bar, easily finding a glass then the ice and liquor. His actions are all smooth and confident, muscles flexing and working. Her glance lingers on his honey skin; the tattoo on the back of his arm she catches a glimpse of.

“What's up?” she asks, feeling self-conscious even though she's the one watching.

He must know her eyes are on him – where else would they be?

“Got a meet on Thursday.”

“Ok...”

“I want you to set it up.”

He announces this very casually even as Beth's stomach drops.

“What? Why?”

He hesitates for the first time, but recovers quickly as he pours himself a drink too.

“It's tricky.”

“Ok.”

From behind the bar, he pulls a Manila envelope. He pushes it toward her, along with her drink. Bypassing the latter, she opens the envelope with a frown.

She guesses the hard copies mean he’s not entirely over his paranoia just yet, but as long as he’s mistrusting digital communication and not her, she isn’t going to complain.

Inside the envelope is a blown-out map of a very particular set of streets.

“What am I looking at?”

“Guy I'm meetin, name is Freddie. Freddie wants to meet in this ten-block radius.”

“That's weird.” Then, realising she actually has no idea: “Isn't it?”

He rolls his head back and forth – half a shake and half a nod.

“Kinda. Freddie's boss is T-Bar and that's his territory.”

“T-Bar,” she repeats. “Sounds familiar.”

“T-Bar's one o' mine,” he nods. “But his crew don't know that and he likes keepin it that way. But now Freddie's tryna put one over on me and I gotta sort it out.”

She processes this.

“What do you get from Freddie?”

“That ain't important.”

Guns.

“So what do you need from me?”

He circles his finger around the map.

“Figure out where’s best to set it up. I'm only takin Demon so I gotta be prepared.”

She thinks that one day she wants to ask him why Demon is his right-hand guy. Are they actually real-life friends? Had he proven himself somehow? Is he contracted out like the rest of Rio's people, or is he his full-time?

But none of these questions are as pressing as the ones that make it to her lips.

“Why?”

“’Cuz I ain't scared of him.”

“Shouldn’t you be?” she asks.

How many guys will Freddie bring? Surely they’ll all be armed.

“Naw. Got you, don’t I?”

She shakes her head, annoyed, at his glibness.

“Why would you think I can do this?”

“You my fixer,” he shrugs. “And you set up that grocery store job, right?” He smirks. “Twice.”

She remembers. Doing all the reconnaissance and planning had been her favourite part of that – not that there was all that much to choose from.

Her eyes dance over the map.

She wonders – if she can get more information about Freddie and T-Bar, could that help Nico?

“When do you need it by?”

“You got two days.” 

* * *

“So now you’re, what, his party planner?” Annie frowns at the map.

“Actually, it’s been kind of fun,” she admits.

Imagining Rio’s life depending on it – not so much. But everything else had made for an enjoyable challenge. She’d had to take everything into account – timing, the number of people who may be around, open space versus closed off corners, hideaway nooks for people or weapons.

“Only you would find the planning part of a drug deal fun,” her sister rolls her eyes.

“It’s not a drug deal!”

“Whatever helps you sleep without a gangbanger at night.”

“And he’s not a gangbanger,” she glares.

“Whatever, dude. Can I borrow the sunglasses or not?”

Annie receives an even harsher glance as Beth goes to retrieve the pair of sunglasses her sister’s come to collect. In the meantime she peers at the map, where Beth’s stuck pins in her top contending locations.

“This one’s out,” she says when Beth’s back.

“Why?”

“Let’s just say it’s a favourite for… working women.”

Beth pulls a face. “You should _not_ know that.”

“What? It’s not like I’m making use of their services, it’s just general knowledge. And you’re welcome, for keeping McHotStuff’s eyes exclusively on you.”

“It’s a business deal, Annie. And I’m not even going.”

But prostitutes mean witnesses and possible casualties, so that rules out one of her top three.

“You know what you could do? Pick a really bad one, and that solves our Spert problem.”

“Could you stop talking about him like he’s not a person?” she snaps.

“Jesus, I was _joking_,” Annie points out. But then, shifting her weight: “What is the deal, anyway?”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you two are like this pendulum with a ticking time bomb on _both sides_ – you do realise it’s not as normal as you pretend it is, right?”

“That’s not true.”

“Really? One day it’s booty calls, the next it’s doom and gloom on your porch and then suddenly it’s gang party-planning?”

“Like I’ve said before, we’re colleagues. This is what working together looks like.”

But… work is not planning to sneak off together at a dealership launch or watching movies together with special popcorn. Beth doesn’t know what that is. She’s never known how to keep control of what they are.

“Right, and that’s why I need to talk about him ‘like he’s a person’,” she rolls her eyes.

“What are you trying to say??”

“It’s just weird, you’re _so_ defensive about the guy. Like you’re not dating him but I can’t joke about him, either. I swear, you used to let me say more shit about Dean.”

Beth stares, speechless.

Then, picking up the pair of sunglasses, she tosses it at her sister.

“Go away, I have work to do.”

* * *

“Hi, Mr Rio.”

“Hey, lil ma. What’s goin on wit’ my girl, huh?”

Emma’s cheeks go red with a shy smile, head disappearing between shoulders coming up, and Beth can relate.

“Here you go, sweetie,” she goes to pass her the cup of almond milk. “Careful up the stairs, ok? And tell Jane to share the cookies evenly.”

She takes it and nods then shoots Rio a look.

“Bye, Mr Rio.”

“Byyye,” he drawls.

The way he smiles at her makes tingles go up Beth’s arms. But then he turns back to her on his stool and the sweet smile fades away, replaced by an inquisitive look.

“Only got half the army?”

“Yeah, um,” she clears her throat, “Dean took the boys to the races.”

“Lil sexist, ain’t it?”

She shrugs. She’d tried to explain that, but: “He’s going with a friend and his boys, apparently.”

“A’ight,” he rolls his eyes, clearly unimpressed but letting it go. “Whatchu got for me?”

She crosses around to the other side of the counter to get out her laptop and documents.

“There are two spots, but I’m pulling for the one,” she says, laying out the map with all its accompanying research.

She sticks two pins in her chosen locations, all the other options small dots that have been scratched out.

“Only two?”

“Only two,” she nods, pointing at them. “This one’s perfect, but I’d say you should pick this one.”

“How come?”

She shrugs. “It’s too perfect. If you pick it, Freddie will know you’re onto him.”

He nibbles on his lip as he considers, then nods.

“A’ight. Tell me ‘bout your pick.”

“Ok, well, first off, it’s a little tricky.”

“How so?”

She moves her finger around the map. “It’s surrounded by a few sorts of terrain–”

“You know we ain’t goin hunting here, right?”

She glares but chooses to ignore this.

“This is the back of a school and here’s a park. Then we have two roads.”

“School would have cameras.”

“It doesn’t, I looked them up. Apparently they’re running a drive to get some more security – they’re really underfunded.”

“But he won’t know that,” Rio nods slowly.

“Exactly. Assuming he’s smart enough to think about cameras, it should discourage him trying anything.”

“What about the park?”

“It’s pretty small but has a reputation. I discreetly asked a few parents – said someone invited Jane to a playdate there – and it’s unanimous that nobody goes to that park unless they’re looking for trouble, no matter the time of day.”

And if there _are _any troublemakers, she’s pretty sure Rio and Demon can handle it.

“Hmm. And the two roads?”

She draws her finger down the one. “This is for school drop-offs only. It gets shut down and blocked off at night so nothing can happen and hold up traffic the next morning. This road,” she points at the other one, “is a wildcard. By my calculations, the nearest police station could only get a car here in ten minutes, and that’s if they respond immediately. But if Freddie calls for backup, it could be a problem.”

Rio sits back and stares, thinking.

“We could get sum’n to block it off, dumpster truck maybe.”

“You could do that?”

“I can do anythin, honey,” he smirks.

She rolls her eyes. Then she points to an area a small distance away.

“Cars stay somewhere around here and you walk to the meeting point.”

“Meaning no hidin nothin.”

She nods hesitantly. “Besides what you have on you.”

This scares her. There’s no way Freddie’s coming alone or unarmed. Even if he has no backup or extra firepower, it only takes one piece in the band of his jeans.

“Stop worryin, Elizabeth,” he reads her. “This already safer than most of the shit I do.”

“I don’t believe that,” she returns, and he pops a brow. “Or you wouldn’t have asked me to do it.”

“You my partner now, right? You gotta bring a lil more to the party.”

He’s smiling, but it’s the one that doesn’t reach his eyes.

She shifts.

“You’re worried about this one, I know you are.”

“Do I got my worried face on?” he taunts.

_If that's true, why do you keep having your worried face on?_

_I don't got a worried face._

_Yeah, you do. It's like your normal face, but a bit more constipated._

“Not exactly.”

She’s not in the mood for joking, not when his life is at stake.

He studies her then leans back with a sigh.

“I dunno,” he admits, “I just got this hunch he ain’t operatin alone.”

“You think T-Bar’s in on it?”

“I think ‘Sorry, I can’t help you’ is a real fuckin strange response when your boss tells you one o’ your people’s overchargin him by a hundred-and-fiddy percent.”

He’s looking at her as if waiting for an opinion and it catches her off guard for a second before she nods.

“I agree.”

He nods too, shoulders relaxing, and Beth frowns, wondering. Is her opinion really that important?

“Maybe I should come.”

His head whips to her, expression aghast before he can relax his features. Then he shakes his head decisively.

“Ain’t a good idea.”

“It’s not safe, Rio. You know that.”

God, she’s glad Annie’s not here.

_It’s just weird, you’re so defensive about the guy._

“And you bein there just makes one more thing I gotta worry about.”

She takes a step back without really meaning to.

_Imma keep you safe, Elizabeth. I ain’t lettin no one put a hand on you._

She forces herself to take a breath.

“Then I think you should take more guys. They could stay back in the car area,” she tries compromising.

He looks at her for a long moment before shrugging.

“A’ight.”

She frowns. “Really?”

On the incredibly short list of things Rio’s not good at, compromising probably goes right at the top.

But he waves a hand over the map.

“It’s your plan, partner.” He smiles a little, looking at it. “Real thorough, too.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh. Lotsa detail, that’s good, and you thought about everythin, just like I knew you would.”

Again it’s like his words light her up from the inside out and she tries to quash it, but it’s no use. She may as well be her daughter, self-consciously hiding her head between her shoulders.

“You like doin it?” he looks back at her.

“I did, actually.” Then, realising why he’s asking: “I wouldn’t mind doing it again.”

“Cool.” He gives her papers one last look then waves a hand over it. “Burn this, yeah?”

He doesn’t wait for a response, just springs up, squeezes her arm then disappears out the back door.

* * *

“So then this bitch tells her to lose his number!”

Beth and Annie gasp.

“Did Sara tell her where to shove it?”

“And does the boy–”

“Ethan,” Ruby provides.

“Does Ethan even like this other girl?”

“Hell no! He likes my baby girl. And if Clara thinks she can step to her, she can think again.”

“Oh, the problems of middle schoolers,” Annie commiserates. “Cheers!” she holds out her bottle.

They clink ciders as Ruby huffs out a breath, still annoyed with the situation her daughter had come home so upset about.

“I think I’ll die when Emma and Jane start getting into boys,” Beth huffs.

“It is _rough_,” Ruby agrees. “But for now, Clara better watch out, because no twelve-year-old is gonna think she can mess with _my daughter_.”

“But Sara’s so sweet,” Annie points out from her position on the floor. “How’s she gonna fight back, with her extensive knowledge of flora?”

“I’ll tell you how – her mom’s gonna give her some lessons.”

“Bitch lessons,” Annie giggles.

“Exactly!”

They all get to laughing, nearly making Beth miss the knock on the kitchen door.

But she just catches it and, when she looks up, she sees Rio standing in the doorway.

“Hi,” she swallows.

She hasn’t seen him since yesterday, when she’d laid out her plan.

The two girls turn to follow her gaze and Annie immediately clambers to sit up straight, as if the principal’s just walked in.

But Rio doesn’t move, just jerks his head, and Beth immediately gets to her feet.

It’s only when she gets to the kitchen that she realises she’s not wearing shoes. The tiles are cold underfoot and when she gasps a little, it’s where his eyes immediately go. She blushes, feeling strangely like she’s been caught unawares; vulnerable. Maybe it’s because she’s in her pajamas, too, she’s not entirely sober, and it’s pretty late.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“Nothin,” he shakes his head. “Opposite, actually.”

“Should I ask the girls to leave?” she wonders.

“Naw, just need a minute.”

“Ok.”

She joins him in the doorway, facing him with their feet nearly touching. Her toes seem snow white and unprotected opposite his pristine black sneakers.

“Got some info,” he says coolly, making her look up. “Imma need you there tomorrow night after all.”

It hits her like a ton of bricks.

Beth blinks, not sure what to feel. There’s relief, excitement, but also trepidation.

“That cool?”

“Um,” she swallows. “Y-yes. Yes.”

“You sure?”

She nods. “I wanted to come.”

He nods slowly then reaches into his pocket and pulls out a key.

“You gon’ need this.”

“What’s it for?”

“The school. I’ll text you everythin you need to know, alright?”

Taking it, she realises for the first time how much she trusts him.

Her emotions are still going haywire but now they’re all muted, as if covered by a weighted blanket. And it’s him, he’s the blanket. Warm and protective.

It’s absurd how far they’ve come. How he can say that to her and she can nod and know he has everything under control; that she’ll be safe no matter what.

“Ok.”

“You ain’t scared?”

She shakes her head a little.

“Fear’s a pretty luxury.”

He smiles slowly, pleased, and she does too.

“Good.”

He pushes off from the wall and suddenly he seems much closer, looming over her.

She straightens up too but it has the opposite of the intended effect, bringing their faces much closer together.

“So. Thursday at 12.”

She can’t help it, she laughs.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.” His eyes crinkle in amusement. 

She shakes her head, trying to keep her eyes off the crinkles; off his lips. She’s not sober, is all.

“Ok. Thursday at 12.”

“Need to run it by your secretary?”

She shoves him a little, which unfairly doesn’t move him an inch.

“Shut up.”

He’s chuckling, spurred on by her obvious confusion and annoyance that her shove has had zero effect.

“You gon’ send me a calendar invitation?”

She glares and he only laughs harder.

Beth huffs. “You realise your minute is up?”

“Hmm,” he nods.

His hand goes to her arm and she freezes, but he only uses it to pivot his body so he can lean into the kitchen a little more.

“Have a good night, ladies.”

There are greetings from Ruby and Annie and then he pulls himself back in to her.

“Have a good night, Elizabeth.”

It’s nearly a whisper, his cool breath fanning over her face, and Beth remains frozen in place.

His hand slides down from her arm to her wrist and then his index finger passes over her hand, softly brushing.

It’s only when he’s gone, disappeared from her backyard, that she lets herself breathe again.

God, what has she gotten herself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are a-happening! Let me know your thoughts 💓 Any idea what's coming??


	14. Thursday at 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if I say it enough, but I love you guys!

It’s fuckin coming down.

It’s about the one thing Elizabeth hadn’t planned for and even though he’d brought a change of clothes, Rio ain’t real pleased.

He checks the time. 11:55PM. Time to go.

He shoots one last glare out his windshield then pushes open the car door and puts up both his hoods. It’s useless, though, the rain hits him hard, and he can just hear Demon’s car door slam behind him.

Pushin his hands into his pockets, he starts movin. It’s about a two-minute walk to the meet spot and by the time he gets there, he’s soaked. If Freddie’s late, he’s killing him just on principle.

But a minute after Demon joins him, he spots Freddie movin toward them in the distance and Rio frowns.

He’s alone.

It’s all but a confirmation that T-Bar’s involved. No way he’d show up without some backup unless he knew he got things sorted.

Only he don’t, and Rio tries hard not to smirk as the kids rolls up to em.

“Yo,” he says, coming closer than he would usually.

The rain is loud as hell and there’s no respite from it. Freddie’s wearin a tracksuit top, too, with nothin covering his head. Kids today.

“You’re on time, good,” Rio says by way of greeting. “Let’s make this quick, yeah?”

“Really quick,” Freddie smirks. “I took this meeting ’cuz I respect ya – but my price is my price and I don’t really know what else ya want from me, dawg.”

Rio really hates this kid’s attitude; hates the way he talks to him; hates the arrogant way he has about him.

“That right?”

Freddie nods. “Cough up or find another supplier.”

“Hmm.”

He shoots a look at Demon behind him, who returns a knowing smirk.

It has the intended effect: Freddie shifts his weight, looking uncertain; nervous.

“You got someone else?” he asks with a frown.

“Naw,” Rio shakes his head. “We really like you.”

Freddie looks even more confused now – Rio knows the kid’s instincts are tellin him there’s somethin way too calm about Rio.

“Ok, so… You ready to pay my price, then?”

“Naw, we really ain’t, Freddie.”

His frown deepens and he opens his mouth to say somethin when suddenly there’s a jingle at the school gate beside em.

He turns to jerk his head at Demon and he takes the order, goin ambling toward the gate.

“Know what a birdie told me?” Rio asks.

Freddie’s very obviously strugglin to keep his eyes on both men at the same time while also tryna figure out what it is about this situation that just ain’t right.

“A lil birdie told me,” Rio continues, “that you an informant.”

Freddie’s face fills with horror but, just then, a woman’s shrill shriek rings out.

“What’re you doing?” Freddie asks, eyes buggin as he begins to hyperventilate a little.

Rio smiles wickedly. “But… you ain’t a real good one, huh?”

He pauses in his explanation as Demon returns, grip tight around a woman’s arm. She’s soaked head to toe too and strugglin against Demon for everythin it’s worth. Still, Demon tosses her at Rio easily enough and he wrenches her against him, pressing his gun under her chin.

“Please,” she begs. “I don’t want any part of this, please.”

Rio locks eyes with Freddie.

“Sounds like they figure you playin both sides and, even worse, keep leavin a trail o’ bodies.”

The kid’s visibly shaking now, eyes going from hers to Rio’s and then back.

“Let her go, man. She don’t have nothing to do with this.”

“Please, I won’t tell anyone, please,” she agrees, beginning to sob.

“Hmm,” Rio hums. “And those bodies, they ain’t just bangers, are they? Naw, they innocent people. _Passers-by_,” he says, pushing the gun closer to her head and eliciting a higher whimper. “And my birdie told me, if you get one more strike, you out. Or, well, _in_,” he laughs, long and dark, before abruptly stopping; glaring. “For life.”

He sees somethin shift in Freddie’s eyes and, moving his hand to her hair, he wrenches Elizabeth away from his chest so she’s next to him instead. If anyone’s gettin shot here, it ain’t gonna be her.

She cries out and he watches the kid’s eyes go to her, wild. Trapped, he’s trapped. But he still sees an out and Rio’s gotta take it from him.

“So I figure – I put one in her head and while the cops are lookin for you, I call up T-Bar and tell him what his boy’s gettin up to behind his back. And then I figure you gon’ be _beggin_ for someone to put you behind bars.”

“Please please please,” Elizabeth cries. “Please don’t let him kill me, I have children, please.”

The rain’s still pelting them but her voice carries, and Freddie looks like he’s ready to piss himself.

“What do you want, man?! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?”

Rio smirks slow, real slow.

“I think you know, kid, I think you know.”

“Ok!” he shouts. “OK! Just let her go!”

“Make the call,” he jerks his chin.

Freddie hesitates but then pulls out his phone and dials.

“Send out Rio’s delivery,” he says into it. “I know what I said, just do it!”

He hangs up then shoots Rio a look.

“What now?”

“Now you hope you weren’t bluffin. Once I get my product, your money comes through and everyone’s happy; it’s as easy as that. Oh yeah, and you gave me a twenty percent discount, right?”

Freddie takes a step closer and Rio pushes his gun up higher beneath Elizabeth’s chin, pulling her head further back. Her shoulders are shaking with sobs as she murmurs _please God please please _under her breath.

Freddie’s hands jump up. “Ok! Fine! Fuck.”

Rio’s smirk is triumphant, and he motions with his head in the way Freddie had come.

“You best beat it. Don’t think you wanna be here when we give her kids’ school a nice fresh paint.”

“NO, PLEASE!” she cries. “Please don’t leave me here, don’t let him kill me, I’m _begging_ you, please!”

But Freddie looks at each of em, swallows, then bolts.

* * *

Beth’s freezing.

She easily finds tissues in Rio’s too-organised car then opens the mirror and starts patting at her face.

She gets off first the rain then all the mascara. She’d gone for waterproof but, to be fair, it hadn’t said it could resist sobbing in a downpour.

She’s gotten rid of most of it, still shivering, when the driver’s door opens and Rio climbs in, dropping his hoods.

He looks unfairly good wet, she thinks, water droplets littered over his cheekbones and glinting off his lips. She feels like a drowned dog and he looks like he’s just stepped out of a Calvin Klein commercial.

“You ok?”

“Nothing a warm shower won’t fix,” she nods, though she knows this isn’t what he means.

Honestly, though, it hadn’t bothered her. She feels physically tired – and, obviously, bone-cold – from all the crying, but it hadn’t been bad.

If anything, she’d felt relief at getting to be here and with him. That if something were to happen, she could try and stop it – or, at least, know how it had happened.

Not like that night, when she’d sat worrying about him for hours.

She’d felt safe and in control and, now, she feels just a little proud. Her plan had worked out; everyone is alive. Now they just have to wait to hear whether Freddie had been bluffing or not.

Looking at her, Rio clicks his tongue then reaches for the backseat.

When his hand pulls back, it’s holding items of clothing. He keeps one and passes her the other.

“Put this on.”

She’s too cold to argue, taking it, but she freezes when he undoes the zipper on his first hoodie then his second.

He peels both off and it’s when he turns to discard both on his backseat that he catches her staring and she clears her throat, pulling open her coat then beginning to undo the buttons on her blouse.

She watches from the corner of her eye as he pulls off his t-shirt then uses it to pat dry his naked chest. Heat builds between her legs as she remembers her hands moving over his taut chest; it rubbing against her pebbled nipples; pressing her lips to it with his breaths loud above her. Her glance catches on his silver necklace and she remembers it dangling as he pounded into her.

Then he’s pulling a dark red shirt on and Beth sucks in an involuntary breath that makes him look up.

Cheeks burning, she looks away and begins pulling her clothing off.

It’s when she’s turning to toss her coat on the backseat that she realises he has his head pressed back, throat revealed, explicitly watching her. _Fair’s fair_, she can practically hear him saying.

Beth looks away, clearing her throat as she uses her blouse to pat herself dry. That’s when she finally remembers the underwear she’d chosen to wear tonight – it’s one of the new sets, black and tasteful. But the thing is, the area around her nipples is pretty much only covered by gauze and the tiniest bit of lace and, well – she’s _cold. _

She’s not completely dry yet, but now her cheeks are sizzling and she doesn’t even toss the blouse before pulling on his soft hoodie. She folds over the sleeves twice then thanks god for stretchy material as she pulls it to its limits over her chest.

She’s got the zipper halfway up when he speaks.

“That new?”

Oh, no. _Of course_ he’d notice that.

It’s the worst possible thing that could happen in this moment, but also, he’d been well-acquainted with her entire oeuvre of crappy underwear.

It’s when she meets his eyes that she realises he’s asking for a very specific reason – because buying new lingerie is normally for _a very specific reason_.

Pulling up the zip, she makes sure to answer the question he’d really asked.

“Uh huh. Retail therapy.”

It doesn’t really make sense – there’s no reason to offer him this assurance. But maybe it’s because of what she’d felt that night, and every time since, imagining him with somebody else.

Watching his face change, she’s glad it’s what she’d gone with.

What had been a guarded look now reveals itself as straight jealousy as he swallows, but it ebbs quickly away as he stares out the windshield.

He’s nodding to himself when Demon speaks outside the window.

“Boss.”

Rio’s glance dances over her to determine her state of dress, then he lets down the window.

“We got a delivery?”

“All three hundred,” Demon nods. “Boys counted. Free and clear.”

Rio grins. “Good. Pay the kid so he won’t run, then make _our_ delivery and promise em it won’t be late again.”

“Consider it done. What about…?”

And now Demon jerks his head towards Beth, and Rio turns his head to follow his gaze.

He takes a bit of his cheek between his teeth as Beth tries to figure out what she has to do with anything.

But then Rio explains.

“One o’ the boys can take your van home.”

This confuses her for a second before she realises _oh. _He’s offering her a ride.

She studies his face, looking for some sort of further clue about what this means, but she also feels Demon’s stare on her like a laserbeam, pressuring her into making a choice.

“Ok,” she decides upon.

“Cool,” Rio breathes. “Keys.”

She scrabbles around in her purse for them then hands them over. Rio gives them to Demon and the two greet before Rio lets his window up again.

She expects him to say something but he doesn’t, simply starting up the car and pulling out. In the side mirror she watches a few of the other cars behind him start up too, while two guys leave to run back in the direction she’d come, probably to go find her minivan.

Beth pulls on her seatbelt, instantly reminded that Rio doesn’t do slow.

The ride is as silent as the dark road that stretches out before them until eventually he speaks, tone curious.

“Where’d you learn to act like that?”

She turns to look at him. “Who said I was acting?”

He sniffs in amusement.

“I know you ain’t scared o’ me no more, momma.”

She smiles but hides it, turning to look out her window.

“You could’ve been a little less rough,” she says evenly.

Her scalps still aches a little from where he’d tugged at her hair.

“I know that’s how you like it, Elizabeth.”

Against her will, she turns back and their eyes meet.

Beth clears her throat.

“I guess it was worth it; he bought it.”

Rio chuckles as his eyes go back to the road. “Hook, line and sinker.”

“What now?” she wonders. “Are you just going to let him go?”

“And have a fuckin CI in one o’ my people’s crews? Naw, man; he gotta go.”

“So you’re gonna tell T-Bar anyway?”

“That’s right.”

“What if he kills him?”

“Then in his next life he’ll know not to be a snitch.”

Beth bites at her lip but tries to appear otherwise reactionless.

“And what then?”

“Then I put one o’ my own people in his place and we don’t gotta have any of these problems again.”

Shit. That means her plan to use them to help Nico isn’t going to work. She’s going to have to think about something else.

“T-Bar’s gonna go for that?”

“He won’t have no choice – either he makes himself look guilty, or he’s done and I’ll just replace him too. Ain’t no good options for him.”

“You make it seem like everything is so incredibly simple,” she repeats her assertion from the other night.

“It is now,” he nods.

He pulls into her driveway then turns to look at her.

“’Cuz you fixed it.”

She shakes her head.

“I didn’t do anything.”

His scoff is annoyed, almost mean.

“You were amazing, Elizabeth.”

His eyes are trained on hers and before Beth really knows what she’s doing, she’s leaning forward.

The seatbelt stops her from going too far but instantly Rio closes the gap, lips burning on hers, and she whimpers open-mouthed, letting his tongue in. One of her hands goes to his neck, her thumb running over his beard, while the other slips down his side as she wishes he were still shirtless.

He pulls away for the quickest second and Beth’s blinking in confusion before suddenly the seatbelt is gone and he’s tugging her closer, lips in her neck as her eyes fall closed again. She moans, fingers digging in as his hand goes to the zipper on his hoodie. She barely hears him undo it over their breaths as he sucks at her neck, where there are still a few droplets of water, and then his hand is wrapping around her breast.

“Oh-oh my god,” she whimpers, body already quivering.

His thumb works up and down over her protruding nipple, covered by just the thin lace, and Beth’s mouth falls open with hot heavy breaths.

“Fuck, mami,” he breathes, before lowering his kisses down over her chest.

Beth stops breathing as his burning mouth traverses her freezing chest and she feels her panties getting wetter as he settles the heat of his mouth over her nipple.

“_Rio_,” she whines, digging her fingernails in deeper.

It feels so so good, she wants to touch herself, wants him to touch her, she can’t think about anything but the way he can make her come. Then he kisses her again, hard, as his hand works at her other breast, and Beth sobs into it. She wants his fingers inside her and she’s trying to figure out whether to tell him or just pull them to her when suddenly there’s a hard knock on the window.

“Boss.”

They jerk away, like they’d both entirely forgotten their surroundings; forgotten there was a world continuing around them.

They stare at each other, breathing heavily, and Beth licks over her lower lip. God, she’d missed everything about his mouth.

His eyes follow the action and she can’t believe he hadn’t touched her yet because she’s _throbbing. _

Somehow she finds the presence of mind to do the zipper back up on his hoodie, though, and Rio turns to look out the windshield with a hard jaw. And, her eyes lowering, she realises his jaw isn’t the only thing.

She thanks god for the car’s pitch-black windows as she finishes doing the zipper then clears her throat and readjusts, looking out her window and generally trying to appear as if she hadn’t just been minutes away from an orgasm.

After a few seconds, Rio climbs out and with the pelting rain, Beth doesn’t hear much – mostly just hissing followed by an apologetic tone and then a deafening bash against the car, as if Rio had driven the poor guy’s head into it.

Then she hears words more clearly, like they’d come closer or are speaking louder.

“Get the fuck outta my face,” Rio’s saying. “Yea, you best get to walkin – you already laid hands on my car, your dumbass ain’t sittin in it too.”

There’s a little moan of pain, a shuffling, a moment of quiet and then Rio climbs back in.

“Here,” he says, dangling her keys.

She takes them with a look of admonishment.

“I don’t think you can give someone a concussion and then tell them to walk home.”

“What’s he gonna do, unionise?”

She rolls her eyes with a smile in spite of herself.

Reaching down, she puts the keys in her purse then sits back uncertainly.

What now?

There’s really only one thing to do – tell him it had been a mistake – but when she opens her mouth to say it, he speaks.

“Got sum’n for you.”

She frowns. “…Ok.”

He reaches behind his seat, rifling through a duffel bag, then comes back with a medium-sized box that he holds out to her.

She sighs. “Don’t you think we’ve gotten to the point where you can just _hand_ me the storage unit keys?”

“Just open it,” he rolls his eyes.

So she does, genuinely expecting to see a key inside.

It’s not.

“Oh my god,” she breathes.

Inside is a tennis bracelet studded with so many brilliant diamonds that it nearly blinds her in the dark of his car.

“I don’t–”

But she doesn’t have words. It’s breathtaking and also probably the most expensive thing she’s ever held.

“You like it?”

She can’t take her eyes off it.

“It’s gorgeous.” She swallows, forcing her gaze away to meet his. “I don’t understand.”

“What’s there to understand?”

“Why you’re giving me this.”

He rolls his shoulders. “’Cuz I wanna. ’Cuz you deserve it.”

She doesn’t and it feels like there’s cotton wool in her throat.

Why would he do this? Is it an apology for the way he’d acted that day on her porch? Is it some sort of celebration for tonight going well? Had he just seen it and thought of her?

Is it all those things? None?

When will she ever understand him?

“Is… is it hot?” she asks, cringing hearing the word come off her tongue.

He looks highly amused at the same thing before shaking his head.

“I’m just as capable of buyin shit as anyone else, Elizabeth.”

“Yeah, but did you buy _this_?”

She giggles at his glare. Then, sobering: “Thank you.”

“Wear it, yeah? Don’t be one of them people who save all the good shit for special occasions that never come.”

“Like all those watches that you never wear?”

He settles lower into his seat with the tiniest adorable smile, looking out the windshield.

“Hmm.”

Closing the box, she decides to tease him some more.

“So is the bracelet supposed to replace my pearls?”

“Your what?” he asks, only looking at her from the corner of his one eye.

“They were expensive, you know.”

“I got no idea whatchu talkin about,” he says, struggling to keep a smirk off his face.

She rolls her eyes good-naturedly before dropping the box into her purse. She picks it up from the floor then reaches back for her clothing.

“Thank you. For bringing me home.”

“You did real good tonight, mami.” After a second he finally pulls his gaze back to hers. “For a minute there, even I thought you were just some real unlucky stranger. Demon said he thought maybe he’d grabbed the wrong person.”

She laughs. “That’s hilarious, because he was gentler with me than you were.”

Oh, god. The minute it’s out of her mouth, she remembers.

_You could’ve been a little less rough. _

_I know that’s how you like it, Elizabeth._

But he doesn’t say anything, and after another second of silence, Beth turns to open her door.

Her entire body freezes, though, when suddenly his hand envelopes hers. Gentle, it’s gentle.

Just like that night in the bar, she doesn’t know what to do, and he caresses her fingers for just a moment longer before pulling away. 

* * *

* * *

**Beth's bracelet:**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How we feelin?


	15. A Born Liar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 👋👋

She's cleaning Kenny and Danny's room.

There's some sort of toy stuck to a plate – god knows with what substance or how long it's been there for – under the bed and Beth has her back on the floor, twisting, contorting, trying to reach it.

“Need some help wit' that?”

Jolting, she nearly hits her head against the bedframe. But she stops herself just in time, rolling her head to look right instead, and catches Rio in the doorway of the kids' room.

“Oh my god!” He smirks, highly amused. “Can't you ever just use the front door?!”

“Who says I didn't?”

“Because it's locked.” He shrugs at this and she rolls her eyes. “I didn't give you the back gate code so you could scare the shit out of me every two days.”

“Oh, I _'member_ why you gave me the code.”

A hot blush rising to her cheeks as he stares, Beth busies herself with sliding out from under the bed then getting into an upright position as he comes closer.

“You know you could use a broom, right?”

She knows. She'd just been too lazy to go fetch one downstairs and had figured she could reach it, but her arms had proven too short no matter what she'd tried. She’d been giving it her last best shot when he’d entered.

“What are you doing here?” she decides to ignore his mocking advice.

“Need you.”

Her back straightens. “What for?”

“One o’ the guys got picked up. Needs an alibi.”

“Ok?”

“And I'm lookin at her.”

She frowns.

“I don't...”

“After the other night's performance, should be a breeze for ya.”

She rolls her eyes despite being a little secretly pleased, his praise from the other night still held in the back of her mind like a trophy.

“I'm not some sort of on-demand liar,” she forces a huffy tone, though.

There’s something guardedly pleased about his slow smile.

“Oh, mami, you _somethin_.”

He's still coming closer, crossing the room, and he stops a few steps away from her.

“What did he do?” she asks.

“That don't matter.”

She sighs. “We're back to this?”

He waves a hand.

“You his alibi – that means he didn't do nothin, ’cuz he was with you.”

She lets out a breath, annoyed that that makes too much sense for her to argue. So she goes for something else instead.

“You don't think that's way too easy of a connection for them to make?”

“Oh, naw, don't worry,” he shakes his head, “he ain't linked to me, there ain't no way they could trace it.”

“He's one of your guys but he's not connected to you?”

He rolls his shoulders pridefully.

“One o' the perks of bein me.”

She gives him a look – as if annoyed with his self-assurance – then, having caught her breath, is about to start getting up when he closes the distance between them then seats himself on the floor beside her.

Beth watches in surprise as he stretches out his legs beside hers as if he'd been invited.

But he never needs an invitation or permission to do anything – another one of the perks of being him, she supposes.

“One o’ the perks of bein _you_ is all o’ this,” Rio points out, gesturing around the room. “Right?”

And, yes. She supposes that’s true, too. What she looks like, her life, is as much a cover as it is the truth; she’s his certified wolf in sheep’s clothing.

_No one thinks twice about a wife buying her husband a flat-screen TV or tyres for the minivan._

And if it’s true that the guy can’t be traced back to Rio, then she supposes a housewife saying she’d happened to have seen someone at a certain point in the day wouldn’t warrant a second look, either.

But.

“I can’t just lie to the police.”

“Ain’t that what you did when you told Turner we was havin an affair?”

She stares back at him, speechless.

Then: “That was different.”

“Yeah? How?”

But he knows exactly how, they both do. That had been to save her own skin. When it comes to her family, Ruby, and Annie, she’ll do anything. That’s how it’s different.

“Bein in charge means havin people, Elizabeth,” he explains evenly, meeting her eyes. “And right now, one of your people needs you.”

It’s all there in his eyes and she gets it, suddenly: if she really wants to be his partner, then that means everyone in his organisation is now her Ruby and Annie.

The very thought is terrifying, nerve-wracking, but Beth takes a long breath then nods jerkily.

“Ok. I'll do it.”

“That's my girl,” he grins.

The look in his eyes nears on affectionate, and she finds warmth spread across the tops of her cheeks.

Then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone.

“This is him,” he pulls up a picture. “Look close; they been known to try and trick people.”

At this instruction, Beth takes a second, longer look.

He looks like one of their drivers – un-tattooed, young and vaguely wholesome. Maybe a bit wild in the eyes, but generally someone who someone like her wouldn’t have any real reason to be suspicious of.

Rio tells her exactly when the guy needs an alibi for and, already beginning to formulate her story, she shrugs.

“Easy.”

He’s smiling a little as he puts his phone away.

“Knew the job was yours soon as I heard.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Mami, I seen high-priced lawyers and Oscar-winners put on less of a show than you.”

She doesn’t know what to say to this so she just looks away, trying not to let the smile rise to her lips.

By the time she looks back, she notes that he’s looking around the room slowly, thoughtfully, and it makes her think of that night; the only other time they’d been in here together.

_He threatened my kid, Elizabeth, he threatened you._

She thinks about just before, the way he’d hugged her to his body during her breakdown; remembers the way he’d ripped open her door that night; had shielded her with his own body. The way he’d checked if she was ok, just like he’d done again the other night.

The other night.

She’s already come more than once remembering his burning tongue circling her nipple through the lace of her bra, her vibrator replacing his fingers she’d wanted inside her so badly.

Clearing her throat as his gaze still roams the room, she makes herself ask: “What are you thinking about?”

“Same thing you thinkin about,” he says easily, swinging his head to regard her.

Immediately her cheeks are aflame.

“I doubt that.”

“Yea?” He dips his head so he can look up at her. “What’s on your mind, momma?”

She draws a breath.

Then: “Marcus. I hope he was ok sharing with Danny and Kenny, they’re so messy.”

His eyes are wise, unbelieving, but he lets her get away with the lie.

“Ain’t like he some sorta saint.”

Beth scoffs. “Isn’t he?”

A brow pops. “What’s that mean?”

“That he’s a ridiculously great kid. Like unnaturally so; I didn’t even know you could get kids that sweet.”

An indecipherable thought seems to cross his eyes, then he looks away with a shrug.

“That's his mom.”

“Not all of it.”

She swallows when his eyes come back to her, warm and deliberate. Curious.

It reminds her, suddenly, of the night she’d told him honestly that he’s a good father. Her opinion on that hasn’t changed; if anything, it’s grown stronger.

Forcing herself, she looks away with an extended inhale.

“Wanna hear something crazy?” she finds herself saying, though.

“Sure.”

Her eyes go around the room, to the spot where she’d once set up Marcus’ temporary bed. She recalls his little arms wrapped around her neck, wordlessly comforting her.

“Sometimes, when he's here, I forget he's not mine.”

The moment the words have left her mouth, she realises how stupid it is to say, and she works hard to think of something that will take it back, but Rio speaks first.

“That ain't crazy.”

Her head whips to him and he pulls a face.

“If I had an army, I'd forget which one was which, too.”

Jaw falling open, she shoves him (pointlessly, again) and he laughs, her shaking her head in reluctant amusement.

“Listen, don’t you start too, a’ight?” Rio says, half-serious. “You should see the way my sisters fuckin dote on that kid. I swear he could kill someone, bat his lashes and be forgiven just like that.”

“I wonder where he got that from,” she points out.

“You like my lashes, ma?”

It comes whip-quick – and, moreover, had not been what she'd meant at all, but now she has no choice.

Her gaze is drawn to his eyelashes.

Not for the first time she notes how soft and full they are; remembers the feeling of them whispering over her cheeks.

“I don't.”

He smiles smugly, clearly knowing she's lying, and she glares.

Then, remembering what he’s actually here for, Beth sets her shoulders and clears her throat, grasping for professionalism again.

“So what exactly happens now?”

He shrugs.

“My people'll get him a message to give em your name. Tomorrow they'll call you, you go in, give em your story and that's it."

Nervous butterflies jolt to life in her stomach suddenly, and she doesn’t know how Rio knows, but somehow he does.

“You wanna practise?”

She nods almost too quickly and he shifts so he can look head-on at her.

“Cool, let's hear it.”

She bites on her lip for only a second before launching into it.

“My dishwasher started giving me trouble and, well, I’m newly divorced and that was never my forte. I thought about calling my ex, but we aren’t on the best terms right now, so I figured I’d go through the classifieds, because what my ex did manage to leave behind – along with twenty pairs of holey socks and all his responsibilities – was a bunch of them. Did you know they even still printed them? I didn’t. But he’d left them under the stairs and… well, I guess I figured the cheating bastard may as well be of _some _use to me, so I looked under plumbing and they were obviously out of date, but I’d had a few glasses of wine, so just pulling up Google wasn’t my first thought. Stupidly I just kept calling and calling until I hit on one who answered. He said his name was Matthew and he’d be able to come the next night. By the time the next night came, I was obviously questioning my own sanity and vaguely considering calling my ex, but next thing I knew, he was there and he came with tools and all, so I figured he must be able to do the job.” She pauses for a second, as if thinking. “He got there at about eight – must’ve been, I’d just put the kids to bed – and stayed for an hour. I stayed in the kitchen with him the whole time because, you know, you can’t just trust _anyone_ in your house,” she says as uppity as she can, in a bit of a conspiratorial whisper. “He did the job, I paid him and then he left. The dishwasher worked and it hasn’t stopped since. It’s been money well-spent – at least until I got a call from the police station.”

She finishes with a little shrug. She’d kept her eyes off him, imagining a pair of officers in front of her, but now she turns fully to him, nervously biting her lip.

Rio blinks back at her.

“You just come up with that now?”

“No, I prepared beforehand,” she replies sarcastically, at which he finally seems to collect himself, looking amused.

“And you said you _weren’t_ a psychopath, right?”

She glares and he laughs.

“You a born liar, you know that?”

“It was good?”

“A+,” he nods.

“Ok, good,” she lets out a breath. She stills feels really nervous, but his praise is helping. “Thank you.”

“Hmm,” he hums, considering. “Don’t think it gon’ be long till I don’t gotta hold your hand no more.”

At his words, she remembers the way he’d held her hand the other night – she can see he’s thinking the same.

“That’s what you’re doing?” she manages to ask, though. “Grooming me?”

He shrugs. “Who better to show you the ropes than the best?”

She doesn’t know that this answers the question; doesn’t know if he just wants her to be competent or is actually trying to line her up as his part-successor. Either way, her answer is the same.

“Maybe I don’t want you to stop holding my hand.”

Her voice is even, steady, just like his eyes on her.

It’s too revealing, maybe; too double-meaning. But she’s confident in its truth – she’s lived this life without him and it hadn’t been the same. Hadn’t, in truth, been what she signed up for. None of it is worth it without him.

All of a sudden he’s closer, a lot closer, coming even closer and not stopping, and his lips are nearly on hers, her eyes beginning to flutter closed, when he rocks back.

Something lands in her lap and she looks down with a breath to see the plate. He’d gotten it out from under the bed for her.

Her gaze flits back to him to find him already staring, something complex behind his eyes.

“All that matters is what you want, sweetheart.”

She’s blinking back when he springs to his feet.

“Lemme know when it’s done,” he says when he’s gotten to the doorway, then shoots her a look over his shoulder. “And make me proud, yeah? Oscar only, none o’ that nominee shit.”

He shoots her a cheeky grin and she rolls her eyes, pretending like she’s recovered, when actually she still can feel his cool breath on her collarbones; can hear the promise in his tone.

If she doesn’t want him to leave her then he won’t.

But then, with one last smirk, he’s gone.

* * *

“It’s done.”

Beth had gotten two blocks away from the police station then pulled over to call him.

“Cool. You good?”

She nods even though he can’t see her. Honestly, two local blue uniforms had felt like nothing after dealing with Turner and Spert.

“I’m good. You were right, though, they tried to trick me with a picture of another guy.”

It had been the only curveball they’d thrown her, though, and she’d calmly said _No, I’ve never seen that man before in my life; you must have the wrong person. _He’d been right – it was a breeze.

Rio chuckles. “Good. And they bought it?”

“Hook, line and sinker,” she repeats his little assurance from the other night.

“How’s it feel?”

Grinning, she lets out a long even breath.

“Ask me again when my guy’s out.”

_My guy_, she’d said deliberately, and she can practically hear Rio absorb this.

“Should be soon,” he says eventually.

“Ok, let me know.”

“Cool.”

“Thanks. I should go.”

There’s a short moment of silence before he speaks.

“They tell you what he did?”

“Nope.”

“You wanna know?”

She hesitates for only a second.

“I do. He fixed my dishwasher. He did a really good job of it, too. Money well-spent. And anything he did after that has nothing to do with me.”

* * *

Two days pass by quietly.

It’s so alien that, as grateful as she is, she keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or, at least, for Rio to appear.

She hasn’t seen him since that day in her children’s bedroom and hadn’t spoken to him since after she’d alibied out their guy. He’d texted her a few hours later to tell her that he’d been released, but that had been it.

Their book this week is a romance novel and she’d spent all of book club last night doodling, thinking about him. One of the talking points had been _Is it really possible to love and hate someone equally?_

_Beth_, they’d called on her, because she’d barely said two words all night. She’d wanted to say that she didn’t have enough experience with love to answer, but it had seemed embarrassing, so she’d said something else instead.

_I think sometimes you hate someone just so you won’t love them. _Then, thinking of Dean: _Just like you can love someone just so you won’t hate them. _

It had split the room, sending it into a tailspin as the debate on whether love is a choice or not raged. She had gone back to her doodling.

If there is one thing everything about Rio has taught her, it’s that the world isn’t black and white. Nothing is just one thing. Love can be a choice, but it can also ensnare you one day, suddenly – she thinks so, anyway. 

Beth’s phone vibrates and she places the last spoon into the dishwasher then starts it up before heading over to check it.

Her back straightens.

The shoe drops.

* * *

Beth pulls up outside the diner with a frown.

She’s pretty sure it’s a 24-hour one, but it seems closed. Moreover, Nico does not seem to be inside it.

Nevertheless, roping herself tighter into her wool coat, she climbs out then makes her way to the door. Before she can knock, a waitress catches sight of her then comes over.

The bell jingles as she opens the door a little.

“Sorry, love, we’re taking stock.”

“Oh. Ok.” She hesitates. “I was supposed to meet someone here.”

“You’re welcome to wait just inside till they get here.”

In other words, _You’re a woman, this is Detroit and it’s 2am._

“Oh, that’s ok. Thank you.”

“Alright then,” she smiles warmly. “But… stay safe, ok?”

Safe. Beth wants to laugh. It’s the middle of the night and she’s supposed to be meeting with a gangbanger.

That being said… sticking around probably isn’t smart. She’s about to head off to her car when suddenly her periphery catches a plume of smoke rising in the cold.

It’s coming from the alley beside the diner and Beth hesitates, unsure whether she wants to be right or not.

She clears her throat, tucks her coat tighter, then takes a few hesitant steps closer.

How ironic would it be if, out of all the illegal things she does and criminals she associates with, a 24-hour diner is where she gets murdered by just a random mugger?

Finally, finally, she makes it to the alley, and she thinks it’s the first time Nico’s face has ever made her feel relief.

“I wish I were as happy to see you,” he says, half a growl in his tone.

“You asked me to be here,” she points out, exhaling the breath she’d been holding. “And by here, I mean a diner that isn’t even open.”

He shrugs, taking another drag of his cigarette.

“Sometimes things don’t go according to plan.”

Stepping into the alley with him so they’re opposite each other, Beth sets her shoulders. She can tell he’s going somewhere with this.

“You know what happened this week?”

It seems rhetorical but he doesn’t continue, so Beth sighs.

“What?”

“One of my warehouses got robbed. Was I surprised? Not really; I expected Rio to retaliate. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t… well, upset.”

Her back straightens. This is the first she’s hearing about retaliation.

“But, see, the thief didn’t just rob my warehouse. Either he did it as a cover or he just got greedy, who knows, but he robbed my neighbours, too. Those neighbours reported him, and you know what’s crazy, Beth?”

She shakes her head even as a deep sense of dread begins to dawn.

“They caught him!” Nico exclaims with a grim sense of joy as he tosses down his cigarette.

It hisses a little as it lands in a shallow puddle.

Beth’s eyes go from it up to Nico.

“They had him in custody and he was going away for a long time – which couldn’t have been more perfect, right? Obviously he’d talk or, at the very least, cause a breakdown in Rio’s chain. It’s exactly what we needed. Right?”

Beth doesn’t move, just stares.

He rubs his hand over his mouth, eyes piercing into her.

“But then I get a call that he’s been let go. You want to guess why? No? Well, turns out he has an alibi. And would you guess what her name is?”

Her throat is bone-dry, but she forces words out of her mouth.

“I didn’t know.”

He scoffs but there’s no humour in it.

“You didn’t know.”

“It’s not like you told me!” she points out.

“And he didn’t?”

“No! He doesn’t tell me anything!”

And now it spills out of her – _Oscar only, none o’ that nominee shit._

“Why do you think you found me the way you did in that grocery store?” She forces herself to remember every shred of hurt, anger and betrayal; to feel it all anew. “Why do you think I hate working for him? Why do you think I had his son with me that day; that I had no idea who you were? He doesn’t tell me _anything_. I’m a dealership to him and that’s it.”

“Is that so?” Nico fires, eyes suspicious.

She draws a short breath.

“What are you implying?”

“That I think you mean a little more to him.”

Beth loses her composure for a second and, seeing him clock it, she mentally curses.

But forcibly she pulls herself back together. 

“And why do you think that?”

Why _does _he? She’s done nothing to give him that impression until this very second.

He shrugs, immediately clamming up.

“Let’s just call it a feeling.”

Now having collected herself, she scoffs meanly.

“Well, I’m sorry to hurt your _feeling_, but I’m a suburban housewife with four children. What interest would I have in a gangbanger – or him, me?”

This seems to throw him off, but only for a second.

“What _were _you doing with his son that day?” he asks, eyes narrowing further.

“_Like I said, _I don’t know,” she says through her teeth. “He told me to fetch him from school then get him home safely and wouldn’t tell me why. I assumed the mother was busy and I’m the most maternal of his… associates.”

“Which leads me to another question – how does a woman like you get involved with a man like that?”

_They’re gonna wanna know what someone like me is doing with someone like you. _

Her sigh sounds incredibly irritated even to herself. “Nico, I’d love to tell you my whole life story, but we’re in an alley in the middle of the – freezing – night and I was expecting pancakes. Next time you want to meet with me, ensure it’s somewhere I won’t get hypothermia.”

She makes to move off but he steps in, blocking her way.

“I don’t like the way you speak to me.”

Shivers run down her spine and it’s not the cold.

But she’s been in the game for long enough to know that that only means she needs to act tougher.

Fear’s a pretty luxury.

“And I don’t like the way you hurl accusations at me when you’re the one at fault.”

This visibly catches him off guard.

“How do you figure that?”

She folds her arms. “You’re the one who’s cut me off at the knees. You know I’m still working for Rio – so I can get you all the information you need. If you don’t want me accidentally working _against you_ during that time, you need to keep me in the loop more, or this is bound to happen again.”

“You want to be _in the loop_?” Nico repeats as if it’s ludicrous.

“I’m already one of your employees, right? Well, it’s time for a keycard and health benefits, _boss_.”

He studies her for a long moment, during which she rocks back on her heels to show she’s not going anywhere. She’s not afraid of him. She has no _reason _to be afraid of him – they’re on the same team.

“Fine,” he says eventually. “Health benefits? I’ll put some guys on you, to make sure you’re safe. Should’ve done it from the beginning.”

“To keep me safe? You mean to spy on me?”

There’s a small smirk at his lips but it disappears nearly instantaneously.

“You’re an asset, Beth,” he says in that same tone Rio has when he’s trying to cajole her mockingly. “I have to protect you.”

“Well, I appreciate it, but you’re going to get your guys killed. Rio already has people watching me and I don’t think we want the twain to meet.”

He smiles but it’s not friendly. “So you mean nothing to him and yet he has people watching over you?”

_Imma keep you safe, Elizabeth. I ain’t lettin no one put a hand on you._

“I never said over. He has them for the exact same reason you really want them, which means every time we meet, I’m putting myself in danger. Including now. So,” she says, letting out a breath, “how about that keycard?”

He doesn’t say anything for a protracted few moments and then he comes close, closer.

She’s backing up against the wall when finally he stills, eyes burning.

“You know the thing about a double agent, Beth?” His eyes traverse the lines of her face; her hair. Takes her in; sizes her up. “You never know whether you can trust them or not.”

She lets her eyes give him the same once-over.

Then she steps closer, till there’s barely any breathing room between them.

“_The thing about_ a double agent, Nico, is that they’re pointless _unless_ you trust them.” She smiles, syrupy sweet. “So. Either cut me loose or get out of my way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got unintentionally long! Would love to hear which part, if any, stood out to you :)


	16. Overthinkin Shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love hearing from you guys; thank you for your feedback xx

Beth shuts her laptop lightning fast as Rio walks into the living room.

“You weren’t joking about being able to get in through my locked front door.”

God, she hadn’t even heard anything. Though that might be because she’s knee-deep in everything Nico had sent her about his operation. It’s dense – maybe deliberately so, with some of it in Russian – but if he’d intended to drown her in information then he’d picked the wrong woman. She’s read 500-page novels she hated just to be prepared for book blub.

“You should know better than to underestimate me by now, honey,” he smirks, entering the kitchen.

She smiles a little then gestures behind her.

“I was just about to make some coffee.”

He follows her glance, as if considering for a second, then shakes his head.

“Naw, I can’t stay; it’s my last night wit’ Marcus.”

Beth frowns. “Last night?”

“That’s why I’m here.” He lets this hang for a moment, making her heart skip, before expanding: “Goin’ to Canada for a week.”

“What? Why?”

“’S good to do it every now ’n then, check up on everyone; keeps em sharp.”

Oh. She supposes that makes sense. Except…

“Do you normally do it around this time?”

He watches her.

“Naw.”

“Is Schiller gonna be there?”

“Yeah.”

Her expression sours.

“He’s going to have you meet Canadian Rio, isn’t he?”

Now he rolls his shoulders as he seems vaguely impressed that she’s managed to intuit both these things.

“Yeah, probably.”

Beth isn’t sure how to deal with the emotions she’s feeling. But, first things first – she has to get him out of the kitchen, away from her laptop.

Figuring it had worked the other night, she rounds the counter and heads toward the couch. To her relief, he does follow her, then sits when she does.

This time closer, a lot closer.

“This is all a ploy to get you to consider the Canadian distribution system again,” she accuses.

“Maybe.” He shrugs. “But he gon’ come up short.”

“Is he?” she presses.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means it’s been weeks and he still hasn’t let it go, and now he’s making you go up to Canada.”

“He don’t _make _me do anything, Elizabeth,” he growls, and she remembers his annoyance at her calling Schiller his boss. “I told you, he ain’t in charge o’ me – I am. If I don’t wanna do somethin then that’s it, he gotta deal.”

It sounds right, but she’s also met Schiller. He’s not the kind of guy who just _deals_. He must have some sort of presentation up there meant to awe and persuade Rio. Why else take him there?

“What if you _do_ want to do it,” she posits, insecurity thick in her voice, “what if he makes you change your mind?”

He turns his body to her, pulling one leg up so he can press his knee into the couch.

She feels how entreating her own gaze is; watches him watch her.

“Thing is, I _can’t_ change my mind, yeah? ’Cuz it ain’t just me that counts,” he says like it’s all very matter-of-fact. “If my partner wanted to change her mind, then I might start thinkin about changing mine.” A second ticks by and he moves a little closer, holding her gaze solidly. “Ok?”

She nods slowly, heartbeat erratic.

“Ok.”

His smile is soft. “Ok.”

She can’t draw her eyes away from him, doesn’t move; thankfully his gaze drifts first, landing on her wrist. She’s puzzled for a second before following it and realising she’s wearing the tennis bracelet.

She wears it all the time now, with the exception of when she’s cleaning – which happens to have been the only time they’ve seen each other since he’d gifted it to her.

She likes wearing it; likes looking at it and thinking about him and that night. Likes just admiring its simple beauty.

But, she realises, he must have his own set of thoughts seeing her wearing it.

Before she can say anything, he reaches out and fingers the diamonds on her, skin lightly touching hers every few seconds.

“Suits you,” he says eventually.

His hand draws back and Beth takes a breath, not really sure what to say.

It does, actually, despite being flashier than anything she would ever buy for herself. She tends to go for understated jewellery, never thinking she could pull off a piece like this even if she could’ve afforded it.

She wonders if he’ll ever stop helping her get to know herself better.

Shaking her head, she decides to move on; stay focused.

“Is Schiller this involved with all his businesses?”

The guy keeps coming up and Beth’s beginning to think the more she knows about him, the better.

“Naw, and I wish he fuckin would and get off my back sometimes.”

Smiling a little at his blatant irritation, she decides to tease him a little.

“I guess there have to be drawbacks to being the favourite.”

She remembers the gala meeting, when Schiller’s other people had complained about Rio getting special treatment.

“Naw, there don’t,” he shakes his head, adamant. “I’m my mom’s favourite and that’s real damn great.”

Beth scoffs in disbelief. “You are _not _her favourite!”

“Yeah, I am,” he asserts.

“Why, because you’re the only boy?”

“Naw, ’cuz I’m the best.”

She rolls her eyes. “Still shopping at Ego R Us?”

“Hmm,” he shrugs, unbothered. “So, listen, while I’m gone, you in charge, a’ight?”

She nearly chokes on her own spit.

“W-what?”

“You my partner, ain’t it?”

Beth stares. This is true and makes complete sense, but it’s still difficult to compute.

“Yeah, but…”

“Imma be busy and I don’t need the distractions.”

Finally she finds words.

“I’m not ready,” she points out, breathless.

He shakes his head. “You overthinkin shit; complicatin it per usual.”

She glares and his smile is mischievous.

_You make it seem like everything is so incredibly simple._

_That’s ’cuz you complicate everythin._

“Plus, I’m only a call away, yeah?” he points out, serious again. “You gotta be the one to make it, though; I told Demon to go to you first.”

Her lips part.

He really is treating her like his full partner, and Beth isn’t sure how to handle this.

Sorting through the trepidation, she finds the root of it: He’s giving her the keys to the kingdom – the real one, this time – and she’s planning to overthrow it.

Swallowing, she thinks of Nico.

With Rio gone for a week, she could do more damage with one fell swoop than ever before, and it makes her feel sick.

God, why? Why is he choosing to put more faith in her than ever at the exact worst time? 

“What’s wrong?” he asks after the silence has stretched too long.

She meets his gaze then instantly begins to avoid it, fidgeting.

“I don’t know,” she sighs, shaking her head. “It’s just weird. It feels like… like you trust me.”

With everything, this time.

“Maybe I do.”

Her neck snaps up and he’s looking at her as if daring her to disagree.

She can’t breathe.

“Maybe you shouldn’t.” He frowns and she scrambles: “What if you come back and I’ve burned the house down?”

Rio looks amused. “It’s nine days, mami, and I’m leavin town, not droppin off the face o’ the earth. 'Member why I said you on my team?”

She blinks.

“Because I crush everything.”

It’s true. She seems to destroy everything she touches.

“Exactly,” he grins.

She can’t seem to muster up the same enthusiasm – looking away, she nods.

“Then I’ll see you in a week.”

“Cool.” He stands. “Don’t burn the house down, yeah?”

At this, she manages a smile as she stands too. “No promises.”

He grins and they head to the front door together.

They’re nearly out when he pauses.

“Oh, yeah, and when I’m back Imma have some tickets, I’ll bring em ’round.”

Turning to face him, she frowns.

“Tickets?”

“Yeah, I got tickets to IndyCar for us all.”

“Us all?”

She realises she’s just parroting him now, but she genuinely has no idea what to do with the words he’s saying.

“Yeah, all seven of us.”

Seven – as in her, him and all their kids??

“W-why?”

“My girls gotta get to see the races too, yeah?”

And now it all comes together – Dean only taking the boys to the track; Rio’s disapproval about it all.

Something rushes at her and she’s not quite sure what to call it, but it hits her in the chest then settles; prickles behind her eyes.

“Y-you…” She clears her throat. “…don’t have to do that.”

“If I didn’t wanna do it, I wouldn’t do it, Elizabeth.”

“Ok,” she says softly.

She doesn’t know what else to say; what else there is to say.

“Cool.”

“It’s soon, isn’t it?” she finds her voice. “How did you even get tickets?”

Not to mention whatever they cost.

“I know a guy.”

Of course he does.

He grins as she rolls her eyes a little then pulls open the front door.

She wants to tell him to have a safe trip but it seems too pedestrian and the moment feels too full. So instead she stands frozen, uncertain.

Rio's gaze is warm.

“I’ll see you real soon, Elizabeth.”

He places a hand on her arm – to squeeze like he usually does, probably – but she surprises them both by placing her own over it.

His is large, strong and steady as usual, beneath her own, and she meets his eyes.

He's staring down at her and it only then dawns on her how close they are, nearly pressed together in the middle of her open entranceway, porch light slanting across his sharp cheekbones.

Without moving his left, his right hand comes up to her fringe, his pinkie finger lightly pressing her hair out of the way.

She blinks and then he’s gone, pulled away, leaving her cold, but she stops him on the porch.

“Rio.”

His glance at her over his shoulder is curious.

She wants to ask him to stay – with her now, if not completely. She wants to tell him not to trust her.

She wants to tell him everything.

Beth clears her throat.

“Say goodnight to Marcus for me.”

He nods then disappears, and the regret on her tongue tastes so familiar.

* * *

She lets herself cry.

For ten minutes; that’s all she gives herself. Then she pulls out all her craft supplies and gets to work.

She has nine days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) :) :)


	17. Nine Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it's a bit unclear, this chapter is in the form of snapshots from the next few days!

* * *

**NINE**

* * *

“Please tell me you’re not rushing off,” Ruby complains, “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

With a rush of air, Beth grabs her phone and keys off the counter.

“I have four children, two dealerships and a slice of a syndicate. I barely see myself anymore.”

Which is as literal as it is metaphorical – looking down, she checks to make sure she’s wearing all the bits of clothing she should be, plus shoes. The socks are probably mismatched, but that’s fine. Right now she just needs to get out the door.

“Wait, what was that about the syndicate??”

“Let’s talk and walk?” she pleads, and Ruby rolls her eyes as they head to the front door.

“Rio’s gone to Canada for a week and left me in charge.”

Ruby’s eyes become saucers.

“Ok, that’s terrifying.”

“And a weirdly huge amount of admin,” she agrees with a roll of her own eyes.

Ruby grabs her by the arm as they still in the entranceway.

“Let me know if you need help with anything, ok?”

Feeling a rush of affection for her best friend, Beth nods.

“I love you.”

“But get out of your house?” 

“Please?” she smiles sweetly and they both break into giggles.

* * *

**EIGHT**

* * *

“That ain’t how Rio does it,” Demon points out.

She stares, perplexed.

The man has zero tells, truly, which means she has zero idea how to deal with him. He could be praising her right now, for all she knows.

“Well, sometimes doing something in a different way can be really educational,” she tries with an even tone.

He watches her for a long moment then shrugs in tacit agreement.

She lets out a breath.

“Oh, and Demon?”

He turns back.

“The guys Rio has follow me when he's not in town – I’m gonna need a list of names.”

“How come?”

“It’s not necessary, and I have something better for them to do.”

“On it, no problem.”

“Thank you,” she smiles.

He gives her a weird look and she quickly erases the smile, remembering not to be over friendly. 

* * *

**SEVEN**

* * *

“So do I still have a sister?”

Beth stares at Annie, who's busy seating herself at the kitchen counter.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“First you don't answer my calls and then I find out _Ruby's_ babysitting.”

“I've been really busy, and Ruby offered,” she shrugs.

“So?? I love those little snot buckets and you know it.”

She shakes her head with a smile. “Maybe I'd know it more if you didn't call them snot buckets.”

“Seriously. What's going on?”

Stilling, she lets out a long sigh.

“I'm just... really overwhelmed.”

“Ok, well, what can I help with?”

She hesitates for a moment then thinks _god, maybe I don't have to do this alone_.

“It would actually be such a huge help if you could chip in with the dealerships. Only the legit stuff and, you know, making sure Dean's not...”

“Being Dean?”

They share a smile.

“Yeah.”

“Easy peasy.”

She lets out a huge sigh of relief. She's had to let the ball drop on _something_ and so far it's been everything legal.

“Wait," Annie frowns, "if Ruby's taking care of your kids and I'm taking care of the dealership, what are _you_ doing?”

“Ruby told you about Rio?”

“Going up north? Yeah.”

“Well, before he left, he left me something big to do and it's taking a lot of time and research.”

“Like a project?”

“Sure.”

“Nice of him to give you homework then go on vaycay.”

* * *

**SIX**

* * *

“It sounds good,” she says, tone deliberately even.

The new Canadian distribution system does actually sound really profitable, even from Rio's perspective and not just Schiller's biased view.

“Yeah, but risky,” he says, and she can imagine him shrugging on the other end of the line.

“Did you tell Schiller that?”

“Sure.”

“But he doesn't agree?”

“He ain't the careful kind.”

“I'm glad you are.”

“Hmm.”

“How are things otherwise?”

“All good; some things could use flippin, but that's the name of the game. I'll give you the rundown when I'm back.”

“Are you seeing the sights?”

“You sound a lil jealous, mami. You wanna come too next time?”

_Next time_, she thinks.

“Who'd be back here doing the actual work?”

He chuckles at the jab.

“Don't pretend you don't like bein in charge.”

Beth doesn't know how to respond.

* * *

**FIVE**

* * *

“You have four days. Stagger it.”

“Of course. You've checked?”

“And double-checked.”

Nico takes this in then seems to war with himself.

Finally, after several protracted seconds, he lets out a long breath.

“Well, I didn't send you the full schedules.”

Unruffled, she barely blinks.

“Of course not. You didn't trust me.”

Nico looks at the papers she's laid before him.

“I do now.”

“So then send me the full schedules and I'll adjust it accordingly.”

His eyes take in all the information on the pages hungrily.

“That's fine.”

“And I was thinking...”

“Yes?”

“If you still don't have a job for me, I could do the same thing I'm doing for Rio now. I'm sure you can see how organised those are.”

“It's good,” he allows. “Thorough.”

“I always am.”

He watches her for a long minute, taking her in top to toe. She doesn't fold, doesn't falter.

Then, suddenly, his gaze stops on a very specific place.

“Nice bracelet.”

She swallows, trying her best not to react.

“Thank you.” She draws a forced steady breath. “My husband bought it for me.”

“He must be doing well.”

Folding her hands, Beth stares at him directly – eyes lasers; shoulders relaxed.

“He values me.”

The message is clear: _Your turn_.

He smiles lopsidedly, the moment stretching. Then he shrugs and it breaks.

“I suppose my system could use improving.”

“How soon can I start?”

“After you send those schedules through.”

After he has all the collateral he needs to take half of Rio's stock. After she's proven herself beyond doubt.

“Perfect.”

* * *

**FOUR**

* * *

“Have you heard from Beth?”

“You mean Project Barbie?”

Ruby glares and Annie shakes her head.

“Not for a few days.”

“Think we should check in?”

“Knowing my sister, it’ll just freak her out more.”

“Remember last time we thought that?”

“Yeah, but this is different,” Annie shrugs. “She’s gone into, like, manic planning mode. Like her _life_ depends on Rio giving her an A+.”

Ruby considers for a few moments.

“So… pull her out gradually then host an intervention?”

She pulls a face of reluctant agreement.

“Sounds like the adult thing to do.”

“But not yet?”

“Nahh,” Annie shakes her head. “Let’s give her a few days.”

* * *

**THREE**

* * *

“So when were you plannin on tellin me my fleet didn’t arrive?”

Shit shit shit.

“I thought Demon was supposed to go through me,” she stalls.

“That ain’t an answer, Elizabeth.”

His tone is like glass.

“I didn’t want to worry you, ok? You said you didn’t want distractions, and I’m taking care of it.”

“That a fact? My shit’s gettin stolen but you on top of it?”

“It hasn’t been stolen, there’s been a miscommunication somewhere, I think it was just diverted. I’ve been trying to get the driver’s number to find out where he is.”

She waits, holding her breath, terrified he won’t buy it.

Then: “You check wit’ Marvin?”

She makes sure neither to confirm nor deny this, in case _he _checks with Marvin.

“It seems like the driver didn’t take the right phone and now he only has his company phone on him, but he gave the company a fake number, so neither we nor the company can get hold of him to find out where our cars are or how he got the delivery address wrong.”

After a second, Rio lets out a quick annoyed breath.

“Just find it. I don’t got time for this shit.”

“That’s what I’m doing. And I’m not the one who dragged you into this.”

He ignores this.

“Next time I hear from you, I wanna hear that you found my product. And it better be real damn soon.”

* * *

**TWO **

* * *

She hates the FBI.

The office is cold, just like Turner’s had been, and it smells like wood and lack of mercy.

Spert sits back; studies her.

“You want to tell me what changed your mind?”

“I got in too deep. Bit off more than I could chew. Found Jesus. Whatever you want to believe.”

“Come on.” She puts on a smile. “Just between us girls.”

Beth stares back.

“Are you getting your promotion?”

Spert shrugs. “I don’t see how I wouldn’t.”

“Then that means our transaction’s complete.”

She waits for another moment but, seeing that Beth isn’t yielding, she seems to let it go.

“And it was a pleasure doing business with you.” Now her smile is genuine: “Are those opening specials still going? I may just get that car after all, to celebrate.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d prefer if I never had to see you again in my life.”

Spert laughs a little, unoffended.

“That’s what I offered you from the first – you give me what I want and no one will ever bother you again.” She slides over a folder. “And I'm a woman of my word: here it is, in black and white.”

Taking it, Beth scans through the agreement.

Her hand shakes as she reaches for a pen and holds it above the page.

But, forcing it downward, she signs: _Elizabeth Boland_.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

She takes it back then hands Beth a copy. 

The deal closed, Spert's giddiness seems to subside as she gets completely serious again.

“We’ll get him as soon as we can, obviously, but... it may take a few days to pick up all his associates – can I offer you protection?”

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

Beth looks down at her lap, where her hands lay. The diamonds on her wrist gleam.

_What if he kills him?_

_Then in his next life he’ll know not to be a snitch._

“Trust me: if he wants me dead, there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”

* * *

**ONE**

* * *

“But I don’t _wanna_ go to Daddy,” Jane moans.

Beth gets down to her knees so she’s on her daughter’s level.

“I know, sweetie, I’m sorry.”

“When are you gonna fetch us?” Danny joins in on the complaining.

Kenny is the only one not pouting at her, seated on the arm of the couch and waiting for the crocodile tears to be over with so he can go play games at Dean’s place. He has the newest PlayStation, with which Beth’s regular old TV has no competition.

“Kenny, come over here,” she calls.

He drags himself to stand with the rest of his siblings and she makes sure to take a moment to look them each in their eyes.

“You know Mommy loves you, right?”

Confused looks are followed by slow nods and half-shrugs and she smiles, trying not to tear up.

“And I’m always going to, no matter what you do or… or what happens to me, ok? I will _always love you_. Promise me you’ll remember that.”

She just about makes it without her voice breaking, but then Emma barrels into her.

“Love you too, Mommy.”

The rest of the kids follow and then she’s crying outright.

* * *

**ZERO**

* * *

Rio tips the cabby then climbs out and heads into his apartment building.

His bag’s leather strap is diggin into his shoulder, annoying him, and he adjusts it as he gets onto the elevator and bashes the button. Truth is, everythin’s annoying him. Flights make him crabby already, but then he’d landed and gotten the news and now he’s extra pissed.

All he wants to do is see his kid, wrap his arms around him, and now he’s gotta deal with this shit.

As soon as he’s in his apartment, he drops the bag then goes for his gun.

He’s loading it when he hears sirens. It’s a sound that makes his back straighten, same way it’s been his whole life.

He does the same thing he’s done since he was ten, fifteen, eighteen: waits for a direction.

And, yeah. It’s comin closer.

* * *

Beth wraps the blanket closer around her shoulders, flipping to a different news channel then back again.

It should’ve happened by now.

She repeats the process, almost losing the remote control with the way her hand is shaking. She hasn’t been able to eat since yesterday.

But, then, all at once, it’s there. Her bourbon-filled stomach drops as she catches sight of a headline. _The_ headline.

She turns up the volume.

“…FBI consider this a huge win, taking a huge chunk of guns and drugs off Detroit streets. The impact of this one arrest will likely be felt for months, with the rest of his ring being taken into custody as we speak. They all seem to be going a lot quieter than their leader, who reportedly tried to fire his gun before being forced onto his knees–”

Beth puts it back on mute.

It’s done. It’s over.


	18. Sob Fuckin Story

It’s a weird cocktail.

There’s a PB&J sandwich swimming around in the bourbon now.

She’d called to check on the kids. Cleaned up the house. Changed out of pajamas.

Now she sits motionless on her backyard steps, French doors gaping behind her as she stares blankly ahead.

The Valium is the last part of the cocktail, and she feels its manufactured calm and emptiness over her like a cool sheet on a sizzling summer’s day.

She hates it, usually. It reminds her of funerals and being powerless. Autopilot during a thunderstorm. But it had been either that or baking, and she hadn’t had a single iota of energy in her body; had barely managed to spread the peanut butter onto the bread. So she’d gone for the tablet and it had been such a crisp relief.

But even a sheet eventually warms with your body.

She stands as he enters the backyard.

“You got a lotta explainin to do.”

Her eyes rake over him, wishing she’d had the presence of mind to prepare a speech or, well… anything.

“Did you see the news?” is what makes it out.

Rio studies her then nods, expression blank.

“They put Nico and his crew away.”

“And he’s not just going to walk away from it,” she nods. “They’ve got solid intel.”

He stares at her for a long moment then steps forward, light falling on his sharp features.

“And how you know that?”

Beth blinks; breathes.

“I gave it to them.”

There’s a shift in his eyes but he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t react.

She clears her throat, knowing the silence is a demand for an explanation.

“That day…” God, that day. It seems so long ago now. “Nico wasn’t after Marcus – he was after me.”

So long ago that just saying the words feels like the biggest weight off her shoulders, like getting to burn a parasite off her soul, even if by this point it isn’t even the half of it.

“That night, maybe an hour after you left, he came to me and asked me to work for him.”

Rio’s face is still unyieldingly passive.

“Work for him?” he echoes.

“To… take you down, like an inside man.” Now his jaw hardens and she rushes to add: “I said no. And he left, and I thought that would be it.”

“There some sorta reason you didn’t tell me about that?”

His voice is smooth, tone even, and she shivers as goosebumps rise on her arms. The calm before the storm.

“I was scared.”

“Of?”

You.

“Everything,” she breathes.

“That ain’t fuckin good enough, Elizabeth.”

Finally there’s a tick of emotion in his voice, but it’s not quite anger – annoyance, maybe.

He takes another step closer as she remains rooted to her spot.

“But that wasn’t _it_, was it?”

She is so cold, suddenly. Like her every other sensor has been disabled so she feels only this. Maybe it’s the Valium wearing off; maybe it’s the sudden realisation that she isn’t wearing a jacket.

Maybe it’s knowing what she has now to say.

“No.” She has to look away. “But this time, I called him.”

There’s the sound of him pulling his gun from his waistband and she has to look – he takes several steps nearer, putting them just over an arm’s length away from each other.

“You _wanted_ to fuckin work with him?”

It’s a growl as he points the gun out to an invisible Nico and it’s weird, she feels relief. This is familiar; the anger she knows how to deal with.

“It was after the judge and–”

“Oh, I get it, so the devil made you do it?”

“Fuck you,” she mutters, shaking her head.

His face twists.

“Fuck me? Fuck you, Elizabeth!” he sneers, voice finally raised. “You were nothin and I gave you everything!”

He’s gesturing at her with the gun now and she scoffs.

“You _gave_ it to me?”

“Yea! You were robbin stores with toy fuckin guns!”

“I robbed _your_ store with a toy gun,” she snaps, suddenly desperate to bring him down a peg.

After everything the three of them had been through, he doesn’t get to take all the credit.

He rocks back on his heels, gun pressing to his leg, and she takes a deep calming breath.

“It was right after the judge, that night. I didn’t know anything, I didn’t know why you did it, all I knew was that you made me take my daughter into an armed robbery and put a gun to a little girl’s head. So I called him.”

Just the retelling, remembering how broken-hearted she’d been that night, makes her nearly tear up.

But his eyes, cold, tell her it doesn’t matter; none of it matters. None of her excuses or reasoning.

“I trusted you.”

And maybe it’s how they’re standing precisely the way they had that night, but the words just seem to come.

“That’s your fault.”

His lips pull into a tight line and she shakes her head.

“Doesn’t feel that great, does it?”

He stares at her for a long moment, jaw ticking.

Then: “You done?”

“Not even close.”

“Well I don’t got all night to listen to your sob fuckin story, so.”

It disarms her for a second, just like he’d no doubt intended, then she clears her throat again.

“The first thing he wanted me to do was get him your phone and, god, I… I thought about it. Then that day we met with Schiller and…”

_If you ain’t comfortable doing something, we ain’t doin it._

She doesn’t know how to say it. How to explain how much his apology had meant to her.

But, meeting his eyes again, she thinks somehow he knows.

“I changed my mind. I told him no.” She clears her throat. “But there’s more.” She rocks forward then back on her heels, hesitating. “Remember when you asked if I’d had any more run-ins with the FBI?”

Now his eyes are unreadable again, deliberately so.

“Yea.”

“I lied.” He rolls his shoulders and she lets out a long breath. “One had approached me, asking me to turn you in. She said Turner had already done half the work and if I filled in the other half, I wouldn’t see any jailtime... I said no.”

“So what do ya want, a Noddy badge?”

She ignores this.

“She kept turning up, going after Annie and offering her the same deal, and then eventually she showed up at the launch.”

She sees the surprise on his face, riddled with understanding, before he can quash it.

_You can’t be here._

_Why? ’Cuz you don’t want your fancy friends knowin who you in business with?_

Beth swallows. “It scared the hell out of me.”

“Maybe you gotta stop bein so damn scared and start doin sum’n about it,” he growls.

“I did.”

“Yeah; how’s that?”

“First I found out everything I could about the agent – turned out, she didn’t really care about you. All she wanted was a collar big enough to land her a promotion.”

Annie had laid out her idea.

_Seems to me like we just need gangfriend out of the picture – in a way that doesn’t get us arrested too. Spert specifically said that she wants him, not Beth. Nemesis dethrones gangfriend, Beth takes his place, Spert’s no longer interested and we get to do business on our own terms. Win-win win-win win._

And that’s when it had hit her.

“I realised I could swap you out with Nico and it would make no difference to her. Nico’s actually the bigger collar. But I was her in with you; she didn’t have any inroads with Nico – there was nobody else, and I already had an offer on the table from him.”

He scoffs and there’s a bit of bitter amusement in it.

“You were the mole.”

“I needed to prove myself to him,” she nods. “I knew he wouldn’t trust me, just like you didn’t. But then there was the alibi and it was the perfect opportunity. The perfect way to make him let me in – so I wouldn’t accidentally work against him again. He didn’t give me everything, but he gave me enough to gain a working understanding of his operation in Michigan. That’s when you left.”

“When the cat’s away…”

There’s that same sort of detached amusement and Beth wishes he’d get angry again; shout at her.

“I knew the only way to get the real stuff – actual information on he and his guys’ whereabouts and support for everything else the FBI already had on him – was to get him more.”

“And by more, you mean _more of what’s mine_.”

Yes, god. That’s what she means. And it no longer feels like relief, revealing all of this to him. It feels like wading further and further into quicksand.

“It was a trade: information for information. You said I had explaining to do – that’s your explanation. I gave him what he needed to take your stock, so I could take what I needed to give to the FBI.”

She knows him well enough to read the disgust in his eyes.

“You ever stop to count all your lies?”

“If I had, one or both of us would be in prison right now.”

“You coulda come to me,” he growls.

“Like last time? When you hung me out to dry?”

_I’m about to be arrested for murder!_

_That sucks. _

He seems to bite back whatever he’d been about to say, again confronted with the way he’d acted that night.

“So you decided to go all Lone Ranger, huh?” he says eventually. “Take shit that don’t belong to you and think it’s all good ’cuz you a snitch?”

Tears prick at the backs of her eyes again.

_What if he kills him?_

_Then in his next life he’ll know not to be a snitch._

“It was you or him.”

“You decided that.”

“_The law_ decided that. And I’m sorry I lied to you, I really am. I hate what I had to do, but I just didn’t know how else to protect us.”

And when he scoffs, it’s not bitter or fake, but real amusement.

“Protectin yourself by _working wit’ Nico_ – oh, that’s real fuckin hilarious.”

She blinks; takes a step back. There’s something in his eyes she can’t interpret.

“Why?”

“’Cuz, baby, your lil fake partner or whatever the fuck you wanna call him?” The humour vanishes, eyebrows knitting in that deliberate way he has. “He said he was gonna violate you then put a bullet in your head.”

A shudder runs through her and for a whole minute she can’t speak.

“W-what do you mean? When?”

“You never wondered why all the sudden I was lettin him operate in my city again? I wanted to put him in the fuckin ground and I didn’t ’cuz of you; ’cuz he knew about you!”

“Knew?” she breathes.

She’s just saying words, not really able to process beyond what he’s saying.

“Yeah, and it musta been _after_ he offered you his lil job, so you makin real good bedfellas, huh?”

That’s what brings her back – his acerbic criticism, as cutting as ever.

“_When_?”

He stares at her then shrugs, like he doesn’t even care enough to hold the information back anymore.

“Day you showed me the new lot.”

Everything falls into place like puzzle pieces around her ears.

That’s why he’d been acting so strange, so harsh.

_You know what we doin here is dangerous, right?_

_What'd you tell your lady friends about what we got goin on?_

_I got powerful enemies, darlin. You want my enemies to be your enemies?_

“S-so… so you made a deal?”

“Negotiated wit’ a terrorist; real fuckin smart,” he scoffs. “But at least I _protected_ you, right?” His laugh is sarcastic and hollow, echoing around the backyard.

Beth isn’t sure how to process any of this. That they’d met, spoken, and she’d had no idea. That Nico had issued a threat too chilling for her to think about. That Rio had capitulated because of it. For her.

But. At least there’s one thing she does know for sure.

“Well, now he’s in prison, where he belongs.”

Instantly his face straightens.

“I didn’t want him in a cell, Elizabeth, I wanted to put his fuckin lights out, he don’t deserve air!”

“Then why didn’t you?” she returns, irritated.

He’d been with Nico, why hadn’t he just done it then?

“You hearing anything I’m sayin?”

_He said he was gonna violate you then put a bullet in your head._

“So what was the plan? If you didn’t want him to go to jail and you couldn’t kill him, what were you gonna do?”

Her tone is interrogative and he chews on the inside of his cheek, mollified.

“Was workin on it.”

She knows him well enough to know this is a lie. He’d been stuck at an impasse.

“So I did you a favour.”

“How’s that?”

“You couldn’t take care of him, so I did.”

She backs up as he rushes forward, getting up on the step with her as his nostrils flare.

“You got some real fuckin nerve, you know that?”

“Guess where I learnt that from?”

Letting out a breath, she steps closer, forcing her gaze away from his hand clenched around the gun.

“I’m sorry, I am. But I had to make a decision, and I made the one that got all of us out alive and not incarcerated.”

His jaw is hard. “You don’t get to do that.”

She folds her arms.

“I do. And I did. And you’re welcome.”

His eyes burn, lip curling.

“Oh, you the boss now, huh?”

“I’m the boss of me. You told me to figure out what I am – well, that’s what I am.”

_Once you know what you are, you let me know, a'ight? _

“So do what you have to do – fire me, be the one to put a bullet in my head, take all the money I’ve made. Do what you have to do. Because I did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've kinda wanted to present these two chapters with no comment, but now that most of the puzzle has been revealed, I'm really curious to hear your thoughts :)


	19. The Important Shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long! It took a lot out of me to finish it because it's pretty intense, but your feedback helped a lot, thank you so much for all your comments! 
> 
> Also I'm feeling pretty emotional because I can't believe we're on the penultimate chapter of the penultimate part 😲 
> 
> Buuuut let's not think about that and get into the chapter instead, which picks up right where the last one left off...

The gun cocks.

Reflexively she looks down, follows the sound, but Rio tilts her chin up, gun pressed beneath. It’s ice cold, pressed tightly enough to bruise, but she doesn’t react.

She also doesn’t want to meet his eyes, cannot fathom facing whatever she’ll find there, so she lets her gaze lower.

Her glance falls on the sharp bridge of his nose; his razor cheekbones; the stubbled line of his jaw. And then his tattoo, wings spread so wide, and she thinks if this is the last thing she sees then she wouldn't–

He kisses her and Beth stumbles back, nearly falling.

She manages to steady herself but he's still pushing forward, pressing, and she reaches to anchor her hands on the hollows of his hips, under his shirt, and then they're in step as he drives her back, lips violent.

They're both panting and then they're in her room and his gun thuds to the floor as he starts pulling at her top.

They're undressing each other and themselves, and too fast there's nothing left between them, just searing skin on skin. His hands are traversing her body like he’s never touched her before, like he’s been tasked with bruising her.

Her eyes open for a quick second and, realising the doors are still wide open, she extracts herself, tries to go toward them to close them, but he pulls her back, ripping her toward him as he lands on the bed.

She whimpers as his mouth, burning, settles around her nipple. Both his hands hold her to him, not letting her move an inch, and with nothing to distract herself, Beth loses herself in it.

Until he bites, hard. She cries out in surprise and then she’s clenching around nothing, getting wetter and wetter as he holds her nipple between his teeth then pulls it toward him, and Beth honestly isn’t sure if she’s in pain or mind-numbing bliss.

But she’s throbbing, _aching_, and she begins hitting him, desperate.

“Stop, I need you,” she breathes.

He looks up at her for only a second, but it’s enough: the way his eyes burn takes her breath away – just long enough for him to flip them over, lay her on her back.

He settles above her then kisses her and it’s just as harsh, punishing. Their tongues battle hotly and then all at once he's inside her and it’s punitive, too.

"Ohh-hh god."

She clenches and he should wait but he doesn't, pressing in deeper, and Beth's already so far gone. He’s bowed against her other breast now and she’s already thrashing against him and she thinks it’s ironic, how he doesn’t need a gun to kill her.

She comes hard, electricity seeming to shoot up her veins as she cries out curse words and digs her nails deep into his skin.

But he doesn’t stop, pulling her nails off him to press her arms above her head, as he continues pumping into her; sucking at her nipple. It’s the combination that, with a “God, fuck”, has her onto her second orgasm and it sweeps her out of her mind, out of the moment.

She watches as if from above as he bottoms out into her, calls her name, growls things into her ear in Spanish then goes boneless. Feels his come drip down her thighs, feels the weight of him on top of her, all of it, from a distance.

Because when she snaps back, she is forced to remember.

Remembers this is not it, not all of it, not even half of it. There is so much more between them; surrounding them.

But he didn’t kill her. Once more he hadn’t pulled the trigger, and she thinks that’s the worst of it all.

Now they have to live with this.

He rolls off and Beth lets herself breathe; makes herself not shiver.

One breath, two.

Then, sitting up and covering what she can with her arms, she clears her throat and glances at him in her periphery.

“Is that it?”

What now? What does any of it mean? Is it over, or had he just postponed the inevitable?

_Fire me, be the one to put a bullet in my head, take all the money I’ve made. Do what you have to do._

“Guess so,” he says on a breath, tone distant.

She hesitates for only a second before getting up and heading towards the bathroom.

Something stops her.

“You should know.”

She half-turns, intending to look at him, but god, she can’t meet his eyes.

“He was paying me more than you are. Double, actually.”

“Then why’d you choose me?”

Now she can’t _not _look – there’s genuine confusion in his eyes, meaning he still doesn’t get it, does he?

“How could I not?”

* * *

She sits on the toilet and stares.

Has the Valium worn off? She feels empty.

Where before there had been liquor and trepidation, now there is only a vacuum.

She stares wordlessly ahead, barely blinking for several minutes. Then, finally, she gets up. Washes her hands.

In the mirror she sees every day of her 43 years. The depths of her eyes are arid.

Remembering the open bedroom doors, she puts on her dressing gown then starts making a list. It's short – liquor and bed – but there is also tomorrow to think about, a tomorrow she does not want to think about after a today she has just barely lived through. But she has a family and two dealerships, and if she has survived then she owes it to them to make it feel like she's alive.

Beth exits the bathroom then stops dead, breath faltering.

Rio’s sitting up against the headboard, back straight; eyes pensive.

“You're still here.” Then, realising this can be misinterpreted, she draws a breath then clarifies: “I thought you’d be gone.”

Or, at the very least, dressing. What more is there? _I think this thing between me and you has run its course, yeah?_

Her eyes dart to the spot on the floor, but his gun is still there and she swallows, confused, before he speaks.

“Where you want me to go?”

It’s an impossible question that he levels very evenly – a test, a trap.

She shakes her head then says the first thing that comes out of it: “I don’t know. To someone who didn’t lie to you, maybe.”

She still can’t meet his eyes so she goes to close the doors, cheeks hot at the thought of what they’d done with them wide open.

God. He stops her from thinking straight. Her nipple’s still stinging, her hips aching.

As she locks the doors, her eyes fall on the gun at her feet again. The light from the bathroom reflects off its golden sheen and the truth is, she doesn’t know what to do with it. Doesn’t know what to do with the fact that he could’ve – _should’ve_ – killed her yet again but didn’t; that he still could. He’s still here and it’s still here and she feels so unsafe and so sure he won’t harm her at precisely the same time.

It’s what he’d taught her, isn’t it? The world isn’t black and white; nothing is just one thing. _He _is not one thing, has never been. And the further they go down this road, the less sure she is where they stand. Where he puts her.

“You were right, back then,” he says suddenly. “I shoulda told you the important shit.”

She blinks then, registering his words, turns with a frown.

“What?”

He seems to be chewing over his next thought then lets out a long breath, shaking his head and throwing out a hand.

“You gotta know what me and Nico got between us.”

Beth inhales sharply. She remembers the first time she’d asked about it.

_Me and Nico, we got beef._

_How bad?_

_Bad._

_What happened?_

_That ain't important._

He’d been vehement and she’d let it go. Now he’s willing to share it?

With a frown, Beth steps closer, and Rio waits till she’s seated at the edge of the bed to speak.

“Met him ’bout ten years ago, through Schiller. He was a pretty big player in Michigan; Schiller thought we could play nice together. We worked together some – ’fore too long we was even friendly. Not real tight or nothin, but we knew each other’s business.”

She understands from the way he says business that he doesn’t actually mean _business_, but each other’s lives.

Rio hesitates, taking an uncertain breath, before continuing.

“Somethin you don’t know: I got three sisters.”

Wait, what? She'd found out about his sisters through Marcus, who had referenced two: Carla and Gabby. 

“You do?”

“Yea.” There’s another second of hesitation. Then: “One of em, she fell for Nico. They got real serious.”

Beth’s mind reels. Why wouldn’t he have told her about this?

Who is this third sister?

She shakes her head, trying to process. “What’s her name?”

“Marnie. She younger than me; younger than Gabby. Her dad’s my ma’s second hubby.”

She blinks at the influx of information before suddenly remembering the M on Nico’s wrist.

“…Nico’s tattoo.”

Rio’s face twists. “Yeah.” He takes another second, as if fighting disgust, before continuing: “Nobody knew he was beatin on her, she didn’t tell nobody. Not till the night she called from the hospital – he’d put her head through a wall.”

“Oh my god.”

No. God, no.

“’Course I was ready to go, but she _begged_ me not to; begged me to let the fuckin cops handle it. Made me promise. So I did. And after a few calls from Schiller, he got picked up that night.”

She remembers the gala benefitting the police; Rio telling her it was a bribe. And Rio’s story about the way he and Schiller had started doing business together – that night, she supposes Schiller had chosen Rio over Nico.

_That’s why you trust Schiller._

_We trust each other. Can’t stand the guy, but we both know we on the up and up._

“He only got six months; can you believe that? Six months for putting a _woman’s_ _head_ through a _wall_.”

And even though she’d wanted to know – always wants to know more about him – she can barely stand to listen to Rio’s retelling. His voice is ragged, broken, like the memory is a wound that is still too fresh, raw.

“So she asked me for one more thing, ’cuz she knew. Knew he’d never let her go; that when he got out, he’d come after her. So I disappeared her.” He looks down at his hands. “Got her a new name, new papers; on a flight nobody’d ever be able to trace.”

As she stares at him, something else clicks into place.

“…That’s what you needed Swenson’s help with?”

He looks up. “Yeah.”

God. No wonder he’d been so upset that she’d think him capable of human trafficking – he’d actually gotten his sister away from her abuser.

“And she was right, too,” Rio continues. “When Nico got out, first thing he did was try and find her. Went fuckin mad lookin for her. Figure that’s what took him to Russia.”

Beth feels a pellet of fear crystallise in her stomach.

“Did he ever find her?”

And now finally the strain wipes from his face, a small slow smile replacing it.

“Naw. She good now, she happy. Gettin married next year.”

Beth finds herself smiling a little too, thankful for this news about the safety of this sister she’s never met.

But then it disappears when he’s quiet and she realises that’s it, that’s the story.

“God, Rio.” She swallows, the words nearly overlapping with one another in her haste: “I never would’ve worked with him if I’d known, no matter what happened between us, I _never_ would’ve gone to him.”

He bites on the inside of his cheek for a second. Then he meets her eyes with a nod.

“I know.”

And she remembers how he’d started off the story: _You were right, back then. I shoulda told you the important shit._

It means something she doesn’t know how to verbalise – that he knows she never would’ve made the same choices if she’d had all this information available to her.

_You were right, back then. I shoulda told you the important shit._

It absolves her of nothing, really. But that day in the dealership bathroom, if he’d just told her about the basis of he and Nico’s animosity, things could've been so different.

Now, for once, he’s taking part of the blame, even though she doesn’t know what the point is anymore of passing it around. Are they trying to forge some sort of way forward?

Does that even exist?

“What kinda deal you cut, with the Feds?”

It breaks her from her reverie – she looks up with a breath then shrugs.

“I got immunity, kind of. The FBI won’t arrest me for anything they got Nico for.”

“You get _me _immunity?”

She can’t tell if he’s joking or not, so she answers solemnly.

“That’s not how it works. And besides, you don’t need immunity; you’re a ghost,” she points out. “They tried all your ‘weak’ links and I was their only way in.”

He raises a brow. “No one snitched?”

“Nope. Congratulations, everyone’s scared to death of you,” she says dryly.

He’s quiet for a moment.

“’Cept you.”

Swallowing, Beth struggles to find a response for this. She can’t exactly deny it – he’ll just point out how once again she hadn’t even flinched with his gun to her head.

“Do you want me to be?”

He blinks, lets out a breath.

“I want…”

She waits, not breathing; watches as he bites his lip into his mouth hesitantly.

Then, finally, he seems to make up his mind and meets her eyes, his serious.

“I want you to trust me. Want you to know that I got your back; that I ain’t lettin no one lock you up, not ever.”

_You coulda come to me._

_Like last time? When you hung me out to dry?_

She shakes her head.

“How can I trust that? How can either of us trust each other again? Just fake it till we make it?” she scoffs. “Build something from nothing?”

He watches her.

“Think we got a lil more than nothin.”

“Do we?” she returns, voice steady.

He looks away, drawing in a long annoyed breath. But they’ve done this too many times – this time she won’t let them pretend, won’t blindly jump in; won’t get back on the rollercoaster.

The moment stretches as his jaw works and then finally his gaze returns to her.

“Look.” He rolls his shoulders. “Trust means lettin go of control and on the real, that ain’t my strong suit. But you proven yourself, mami, and I trust you to be a boss bitch; to look out for us over anyone else out there. That’s sum’n.”

“_Us_?”

They just stare at each other for the longest minute and it’s like there’s so much they want to tell each other, but for once they need the words.

And it’s as if she says it aloud because he begins to nod slowly.

His gaze moves away, down to where his thumb rubs over the sheet slung over his hips.

“My sister – Gabby – says I gotta stop tryin to control people.”

Breathless, she’s breathless.

“That’s what your sister said?”

_But you still haven’t told me why you came here._

_Maybe I wanted to talk to ya._

_About what?_

_…My sister said sum’n the other day._

“Kinda.” He hesitates. “But that wasn’t all of it.”

Her throat feels all clogged up but she forces herself to ask.

“What else did she say?”

He shrugs, shaking his head. “Was a lot; what it comes down to is she painted a picture of what the rest o’ my life was gon’ look like if I keep goin the way I do and… I didn’t like it, not one fuckin bit.” He pauses, takes a breath. Slowly looks up. “And that’s ’cuz you weren’t in it.”

Beth freezes, feeling like the oxygen has been stolen from the room, like her body physically cannot handle the impact, and she forces herself to blink before looking away, swallowing.

He’s saying so much and she’s not used to it, but he’s also saying so many things she never could’ve imagined he would, especially now.

The gun.

It’s in her line of vision again and, because she can think of nothing else to say or do, she goes for it. She picks it up then sits down again, holding it securely in her hand, looking at it as if it’s some source of answers.

Rio clicks his tongue. “Careful.”

She makes sure it’s on safety then looks at him with a little roll of her eyes.

“You taught me, remember?”

“I remember.” His face is impassive. “Think I taught you a lil too much.”

“Well, the student always has to become the master,” she quips, even though she knows he’s not talking about the gun anymore.

They both make a little sound of amusement, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Biting on her lip, her gaze goes back down to it.

Turning the gun over in her hands thoughtfully, she passes her thumb over the muzzle, remembering its bruising force.

“You know, it hurt.”

“You ain’t the only one.”

Her neck snaps up. He’s looking at her, eyes open, and she blinks back.

_Because I’d convinced myself that nothing I did could hurt you, so it didn’t matter._

_You think you hurt me??_

For once he’s laying it all out bare, and now that she’s driven him here, he won’t let her veer them away, no matter how uncomfortable the unfamiliarity makes her.

_You ever stop to count all your lies?_

She takes a deep breath. 

Maybe – god, maybe – for once, she can be honest too.

“You _do_ scare me.” She takes a deep breath, lets it sit. “But not because of this,” she holds up the gun a little as she swallows down a lump in her throat.

_When you’re in love, it feels like that person is your heart. Not like they have your heart – no. Like they are literally your heart – someone ripped yours out and turned it into a person and they’re out there walking around all willy-nilly while you’re this barely-living thing until you see them again. _

Her lip wobbles despite her best efforts and she lets out a breath.

“It’s because you can just leave. One second you’re here and then you’re gone, completely.”

_She was married to that fine piece of ass and had his baby, while you’re not even allowed to see his apartment without him picking up and leaving._

She’s crying now, remembering seeing his place cleared out like he’d never been there; all his things in the storage unit left behind like yesterday's news.

“It’s so easy for you and I just…”

The rest gurgles beneath tears, disappears behind the lump, and she turns away, wiping at her eyes surreptitiously.

“Who ever fuckin said that was easy, Elizabeth?”

She scoffs. “You sent a barely-there goodbye in _a_ _text_.”

“Yea.”

It rears the anger – she spins back around.

“And I’m supposed to be ok with that?! That’s what’s supposed to have me believing that I’m this person you apparently can’t imagine your future without? The same person who isn’t even worth it?”

“What are you talkin about??”

“In the bathroom, at the launch. You said you can be patient when it’s worth the wait. And then you left. You always leave,” she says, and it breaks at the end.

“’Cuz I always wanna stay.”

It knocks the breath out of her.

“Wh-what? What do you mean?”

He shakes his head, face twisting in annoyance.

“I always wanna be wit’ you, Elizabeth. Don’t matter if we watchin a shitty movie or sitting on your kids’ floor, or if I can just get you home safe.” His sigh is irritated, helpless. “I see shit and I wanna buy you it, my phone rings and I want it to be you, I’m in meetings and I’m thinkin about you.”

“I don’t–”

“And that shit’s dangerous,” he points out, voice gruff. “Especially when you out here makin deals behind my back and working with fuckin Nico.”

There’s a long silence, all his words hanging between them like humidity. Dispersing on the air yet so heavy, meaning so many things.

After a minute, she shakes her head with a sad little laugh.

“God, we _really_ _can’t_ ever trust each other again, can we?”

If his guard had still been that far up before Nico, how can they ever move forward from here? If every time he’d left it was so he wouldn’t stay, what now?

He cocks his head thoughtfully.

“You know that in order for me to always be leavin, I gotta be comin back all the time too, right?”

His tone is a little mocking, like she should’ve been able to figure this out for herself, and she huffs.

“I really didn’t take you for a glass half-full kinda guy.”

She’s smiling a little, though, as he comes closer. She inhales sharply as his hand traces up her side then onto her breast.

“Oh, turns out I like a lotta things full.”

“You’re an asshole,” she says, but it’s breathy, barely-there.

It’s insane how her body responds to him – goosebumps are breaking out across her arms as a hot shiver comes from somewhere deep inside her.

He smirks but the touch quickly becomes chaste again as his hand continues its journey up, getting to her jaw and then her hair.

Slowly, tenderly, he pushes it out of the way.

She’s thinking about how much she wants him to kiss her when his expression straightens, half-simmering fury behind his eyes.

“Nico. He touch you?”

She lets out a breath, out of surprise and because she’d been holding it.

She isn’t sure if he means _like this_ or if Nico had been violent with her, but the answer is the same.

“No.”

His nostrils flare.

“Elizabeth.”

“I’m telling the truth. I promise.” Still. She supposed she can't blame him for struggling to believe her. “I’m not going to lie to you again. I won’t. I don’t think I could.”

“Don’t think you _should_, neither. If I can’t pull that trigger, mami, next time I’ll get someone who can.”

His tone is serious but there’s a softening in his eyes and jaw that helps her brush it off; lighten the moment.

“Death by Demon,” she teases.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe for now, the trust they have is enough. Maybe eventually they’ll get back to where they always should’ve been.

“Oh, nah,” he pulls a face, “wouldn’t ask him. Likes ya too much.”

“He _likes_ me??” Rio nods and she scoffs: “That man’s even more of a mystery than you are.”

He grins and she finds herself smiling too, only because it’s genuine – he looks unburdened, content.

Then the smile vanishes as he lifts a brow.

“You still owe me money.”

Now her smile widens.

“I know…”

He cocks his head, watching her; analysing.

And god, she’s sure the man can read her mind.

“You turn in all Nico’s clients, too?”

“Nope,” she shakes her head, becoming giddier and giddier. "Not all."

“How many?”

“Bit less than half.”

She’d known she would have to pay Rio back and, besides, there was no point in burning good potential client bridges.

He looks impressed; excited.

“Damn, I really did teach you good, huh?”

“Well, you are the best,” she smiles, only half-teasing as she moves a little closer.

He sits forward so there isn’t much space left between them.

“Player one.”

Beth nods. “In Detroit, now all of Michigan. Where next?”

“Canada?”

“That’s not funny,” she glares.

He grins. “It’s kinda funny.”

She wants to reach out and touch him, but she doesn’t know how; wants him to let her know it’s ok. She still doesn’t quite know what to do with everything he’d revealed; everything they’d decided without really putting a name to it.

She’s trying to work this out when suddenly he closes the last of the distance, pressing his forehead to hers.

She feels his long breath, cool, over her collarbones.

“You really put me through it, you know that?”

Her eyes flutter closed for a second as she smiles.

“Admit it, you’d be bored otherwise.”

He smirks in amusement as he pulls back a little to regard her.

“I could use some boredom for a minute.”

It's the way he's looking at her – she finds the courage to let her hand float onto him; abandoning the gun between them to settle lightly on his neck. Soft and warm, it's nothing like the violent metal.

“I’m good at that, too.”

He’s amused.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Real Housewives included.”

“Hmm,” he hums, watching her with a smile that makes her heart jump.

But.

She has to be sure. Has to have the words; cannot let the moment steal them from her again.

“You really forgive me?”

His gaze is steady.

“Guess so.”

“How come?”

“How could I not?”

She rolls her eyes.

“Don't do that. Seriously. Why? You wouldn’t, if I were anyone else, I know that. How can you just... move past this?”

“’Cuz I'm stupid for you, Elizabeth Boland.”

Her heart seems to stop then jolt into action again; ache its presence into the forefront of her mind.

She finds herself speechless, speechless.

He’s not.

“But there's sum'n you gotta know.”

Licking over her lips, she forces a word out.

“W-what?”

“Nico came after my kid, my business and you; he hurt my sister. I don't care if it's in five years or fiddy – when he gets out, I'm putting him down.”

Beth stares back at him. There is determination in his jaw and something in his eyes that, once, scared her. But now he doesn’t scare her anymore. Even though he’s a murderer, even though he settles scores in a way she doesn't know if she could ever.

He doesn’t scare her – he comes back to her.

And, a second before tipping forward to kiss him, she nods.

“I’ll load the gun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So excited to hear your thoughts!
> 
> P.S. Thanks so much for the Tumblr love, I love talking to you guys over there :)


	20. The Point of the Hustle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it's been two whole weeks. Work has been insane, so much so that sometimes the only time I had to myself to write was before it even started. So I'm so sorry about the wait! On the brighter side of things, I decided to split the chapter, so am extending this part by one more :) 
> 
> This one and the next one act as kind of an epilogue to this part as well as a prologue to the next, wrapping up plots and raising themes that will take us forward (if you guys do indeed want another part).

“So, to recap: you somehow got gangfriend’s gangnemesis to trust your crazy ass then turned him in to _Spert’s_ crazy ass, and now none of us are going to prison?”

Beth stares at her sister as Ruby turns to do the same.

“How did you make that harder to follow than the actual story??”

Beth sighs. “The short version is Nico’s going away for a really long time and we aren’t.”

Ruby shakes her head. “I can’t believe you got yourself messed up with another criminal element!”

Annie peers at her. “Do you have ‘Gangfriend wanted – enquire within’ tattooed on your forehead in invisible ink?”

“Gross,” Ruby pulls a face. “So now what?”

“Yeah, is it all good in the ’hood with you two?”

“Well, I have to pay him back for everything he lost–”

“And that’s you only, right? Because _I_ didn’t conspire against him.”

Beth glares at her sister. “You’re welcome, by the way. For not having to go to prison.”

She huffs at this and folds her arms. Ruby smirks.

“What about Nico’s clients?”

She nods. “We spent the past two days going around the city and getting them all on board.”

Rio’s pitch had been pretty hard to turn down, especially with his trump card: her. He’d assured everyone that it would be a smooth transition since she already knows all the ins and outs about their deals with Nico.

It’s a real stretch of the truth, but Rio had managed to sell it every time. And, watching him, she hadn’t blamed them.

There’s something so confident yet easygoing about his approach, like you’d be doing yourself the favour by coming on board.

She likes watching him work, she’d realised. Likes watching him cast his spell on other people with next to no effort and watching them get wrapped up in it just as she had. 

“He’s going to offset their first payments against my debt and I’ll owe the balance.”

They stare back at her.

After a few seconds, Annie cocks her head with a frown.

“That’s weirdly…”

“Sensible?” Ruby supplies.

Annie clicks and points, and Beth rolls her eyes.

“What did you expect him to do, start carrying out my furniture?”

“I mean, sure. Or pull off your fingernails one by one till you pay.”

“Oh. My God,” Ruby glares.

“What?! Like commission is a thing in gangs??”

“It’s almost like he’s not a gangbanger,” Beth says dryly, to which Annie sticks out her tongue.

They’re seconds away from reaching over the counter to strangle each other when the kitchen door opens and Rio strolls in.

“What’s up, ladies?”

The bickering comes to a screeching halt and Rio smirks.

Coming to stand directly beside her, he bows to lay a kiss on her cheek.

“Hey.”

Beth feels the blush blossom across the tops of her cheeks. It’s not just the kiss – the look in his eyes makes her forget they’re not alone.

But then his head swivels to the girls, who have their jaws hung open.

“What?”

His tone is terrifying and they both immediately pale.

Ruby clears her throat. “Nothing. Nothing at all. In fact, we were just leaving.”

This finally brings Annie back, too.

“We are?” she frowns.

“_Yes_,” Ruby emphasises, beginning to pull her by the arm.

“But I wanted to–”

“Bitch, _move_.”

Beth watches in amusement as they scurry out, Annie looking incredibly disappointed that she can’t stay to observe them together, before turning back to face Rio.

“How’s Marcus?”

He rolls his eyes. “_Pissed _I said I was gonna be gone for nine days and it was eleven. Stoked when he saw everythin I got him.”

She smiles. “I miss him.”

Placing his hands on her hips, he nudges her back against the counter, using his knee to spread her legs a little.

“How come you never missin _me_, huh?”

The blush had dissipated but now it comes back.

“I did last night,” she admits in a near-whisper.

He hums with a mischievous smile, pleased.

After their two full days of meetings, he’d gotten one last lead in Westland, so he’d dropped her at home before driving all the way out. He’d stayed at a hotel before heading to see Marcus this morning.

“How did it go?” she asks, trying to concentrate as he starts pressing closer, nosing at her jaw.

“Real good. Startin to think Nico wasn’t too good at keepin his clients happy.”

She sucks in a breath as his hand slips between her legs.

“They can’t exactly be loyal to someone who’s behind bars,” she tries keeping the conversation going.

“Whatchu sayin, that you wouldn’t wait for me if I got time?”

“Who, me?” she quips. “No, I’m ride or die.”

It catches him by surprise: his entire body rocks back as he tosses his head to laugh throatily.

He takes a whole step away, he’s laughing so hard, and Beth basks in this for a moment before reaching out to pull him back.

He’s still grinning when he looks down at her.

“You even know what that means, honey?”

“It’s pretty self-explanatory,” she points out. “But, just so you know, I much prefer the riding to the dying.”

“Oh, I got somethin you can ride.”

She shoves at him and he laughs again, then kisses her.

In no time she’s forgotten her indignation, helping him get her jeans off so he can press two fingers inside her. Her head lolls and he kisses her neck, moaning a little as he feels her get wetter and wetter.

Hands roaming, she starts undoing the buttons on his shirt blindly then shoves his hand away from her so she can concentrate on getting him naked. He grins then pulls her sweater over her head; tosses her bra.

God, she’s burning up inside.

She runs her thumb over his jutting bottom lip before replacing it with her lips then her tongue. He’s panting by the time she turns around, leaning over the counter a little.

He wastes no time, hand wrapping around her breast as he enters her slowly but surely. Her eyes fall closed, breath catching in her throat.

He’s kissing at her spine, her neck, the line of her shoulder as they moan and whimper, bodies settling into a rhythm then speeding up, faster and faster until he slips his free hand down her front and works frenzied friction over her clit.

“G-god, oh!”

She comes so hard that she has to stop herself from falling onto the counter, and Rio curses into her spine before pressing up sharply, hissing.

They stay pressed together, breathing through their orgasms; bodies quivering.

When they’ve finally regained control, they clean up then re-dress.

She’s busy righting her sweater when Rio pulls her to him and then into a deep kiss, pinning her between his body and the counter again as she goes onto her toes to get closer to him.

She’s breathless when he pulls away, slowly licking his lips.

She decides to say nothing under his gaze, working at getting her breath back, and then he rocks closer to her.

“Missed you too.”

It takes her breath right away again and she stares back at him speechlessly as he caresses her jaw then, gently, holds her chin between two fingers.

“You dizzy?”

Yes; god, yes. But not in the way he means.

_You make me dizzy. Not in a good way._

_Then let’s stop spinnin, mami._

She can’t believe he even remembers that.

“No,” she breathes.

His smile is slow, soft, and then all of a sudden he’s pulled away, a few steps back as he easily crosses right into business mode.

“Good. We got stuff we gotta do today.”

She frowns. “We do?”

“Yeah, I got a meeting. Nothin big, don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried,” she huffs.

“Naw? But you got your worried face on.”

She shoots him a glare and he chuckles. 

“C’mon, let’s change, it’s gonna be freezin out there.”

They head to the bedroom and he fills her in as they change: he uses the bar for certain ‘imports and exports’ – high-end liquor being amongst the imports.

“That makes you money?”

“Oh, stacks, mami. Rich folk get off on that shit.”

“So people like you?” she jabs.

“I seem like the kinda moron who’d dish out sixty gees for a bottle o’ whiskey?”

Her jaw goes slack. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope,” he shakes his head in amused derision.

He gives her a quick rundown on why Japanese whiskey is so sought-after then explains that not everything is quite as high-end, but skipping taxes means spiking his profit margins.

“So all we gotta do is go see our product.”

She notices the _our,_ but decides not to broach it.

“Isn’t that risky?”

He shoots her a look, amused. “First rule o’ business, mami: no money and product in the same place. Ever,” he emphasises. “That’s why we just lookin, inspectin, yeah? Makin sure all’s in order. Ain’t no crime in lookin.”

Mulling this over, she tries to repress a smile. Over the past two days he’d turned everything he could into a teachable lesson, and she finds his sudden apparent dedication to mentorship equally adorable and sexy.

But she clears her throat, hoping it clears her mind too.

“So that’s why the owner was away?”

“That’s right.”

“Is he gonna be there?”

“Nah, he got a thing for middle men. I got any issues, he’ll be hearin about it, though.”

“Ok.” Biting her lip, she bats her lashes a little as she clears her throat. “What time’s the meeting?”

“We gotta go now,” he says, oblivious of her lame seduction attempt.

She’s trying to recover with grace when he pulls his gun from his waistband and holds it out to her.

“Here.”

She stares.

“…What do you want me to do with that? I don’t have a safe.”

“Oh yeah, I been meanin to talk to you about that – you gotta get one. We got kids.”

Not letting herself think about how much that sounds like _they _have children instead of each of them having children, she purses her lips.

“Or you could just _not_ bring your gun here.”

Rio snorts. “Yeah, that ain’t happenin, so figure out where’s a good spot for it. I can get my guy to come by.”

God. Of course he has a ‘safe guy’.

“Are you paying for it?”

“Yes, Elizabeth, damn; can you just take the gun? Put it in your bag or sum’n.”

“What? Why??”

“Want to take it with to the meet,” he says like it’s very obvious.

And he wants _her _to keep it?

Several versions of a response try and fail to make it off her tongue before finally one does.

“Why can't _you_ keep it?”

“They search me,” he shrugs. 

“And they aren't gonna search me?”

“You seen yourself? Only thing you look like you packin is juice boxes.”

She looks down at herself. She’s wearing jeans, her blue coat and boots. Fine, maybe her bag is a bit on the large side, but even criminals need hand cream and mints, right?

Looking back up, she fixes him with a biting glare that doesn’t seem to faze him in the least.

Finally, extra annoyed, she settles her hands on her hips.

“How do you normally get a gun in?”

“I don't. And I hate it.”

He pushes the gun out to her some more and she grabs it from him with an extra scathing look.

“Well, I hate smuggling stuff for you.”

“Yea? But you look so cute doin it, though.”

He comes closer as if to pull her to him and she immediately backs up, glare turned up to eleven.

“Don't you dare.”

With that she stomps out of the room, checking she has everything she needs before half-burying the gun beneath it all.

She’s still testy by the time they make it into the car, immediately turning to face out the window.

“I don’t get why you so grumpy," Rio snorts, "you _said_ to give you the gun next time.”

Gasping, she spins to face him.

“That's not what I meant and you know it!”

He laughs all the way out of the driveway.

* * *

“A’ight, so they gonna do a search here then we’ll go through to the warehouse, cool?”

She says nothing, just sighs with her arms folded, and in her periphery she sees Rio smirk.

They’re pulled up behind the bar, waiting for the owner’s guys. Apparently he uses different middle men every time he smuggles for Rio, and it seems like these ones aren’t too worried about being punctual.

After a few silent minutes pass, she turns to him.

“Can I ask you something?”

The way he’s been acting over the past two days, all his mentorship, had slowly snowballed in her mind, finally catching up to combine with what they’re doing right now.

“Sure,” he shrugs.

“What did you mean when you said you wanted to show me the ropes?”

A second ticks by. Then he turns one eye on her.

“You really got in your feelins about that one, huh?”

“Do you think you’re capable of answering a question like a normal person?”

“And what’s the question, Elizabeth?”

“Are you trying to pass all this on to me?”

“Like you qualified?” She glares and he chuckles. “Mami, it ain’t that deep.”

“Then why do you keep taking me along to all these things? Keep teaching me all these lessons?”

“I thought we partners?” he shoots, now turning to face her fully.

It stumps her for a second, making her swallow her next words.

“You got the instinct but not the knowledge, and if you gon’ get not dead there’s stuff you gotta know.”

“Because I can ‘be somethin’?”

He sniffs in light amusement, turning away again.

“Sure.”

She watches him; observes the curve of his jaw and slant of his neck. The early evening sun throwing copper onto his honey skin. Eyes hiding so much.

“What do you want?”

It catches him by surprise – his head whips back to her.

“’Scuse me?”

“You keep asking me what I want to be; what I am,” she points out, voice steady. “I’ve never asked you.”

“That’s ’cuz I _am_ what I wanna be,” he shrugs, but his tone is masking something.

“Then why did you make it sound like you wanted to hand it over to me?”

He looks at her, opens his mouth and is about to say something then exhales it away, turning to stare out the windshield again.

A minute passes.

She doesn’t stop staring at him; won’t give him an out.

Eventually he sighs: “The point of the hustle is to be done, right? Ain't nobody bangin for their own good health.”

This only confuses her more.

“But that's not what you do.”

_So you never ended up joining a gang?_

_Naw, not really._

_But then why–_

_Do I let people think I’m a banger? Cuz it works; helps me flip my game. People look at me and they see what they wanna see – if it helps me, I ain’t complainin._

Now Rio settles his elbow against the window, chin laid impassively in his hand.

“Maybe not, but sometimes it feels like that's who I am.”

And suddenly she understands a bit better: for nine days she’d walked in his shoes, and it’s strange. Even knowing who you really are, you begin to lose sight of it when you’re in too deep, dealing with the same people and issues you would if you were exactly who they think you are.

It’s a familiar feeling, she realises. For twenty years she’d felt lesser than, despite knowing that raising their children, cooking and cleaning was all just as important as Dean going out and earning money. _I may be the breadwinner but you’re the only one who knows how to make bread_, Dean had once told her.

“So what are you going to do?” she wonders.

Rio clicks his tongue.

“What is this, some kinda job interview? You wanna know where I see myself in five years?”

Before he’s done speaking, the gate in front of them opens and Rio jerks his chin.

“C’mon.”

Swallowing her annoyance, she checks on the gun in her bag then jumps out after him.

They end up in a sort of courtyard where someone’s unloading beers and ciders from a truck parked next to two black SUVs. There’s an exit at the back of the bar and after a moment, four guys exit.

Sometimes, Beth has learned, the people in this world look nothing like you’d expect them to – a guy moving stolen TVs looks like he has to go design a website after the meeting, or the girl in charge of a huge territory looks like she’d skipped Math class to be there. Even Nico, who’d had more of a hot dad look than anything else.

That’s most decidedly _not_ the case here. The four guys all look vaguely related – cousins, maybe – and they’re tall, taller than Rio, with mean eyes and hard jaws. They’re dressed like they work at a shipping yard and Beth automatically draws nearer to Rio, wishing she were invisible.

The feeling grows exponentially when, from behind them, steps the bartender.

_The _bartender. From that night.

Oh, god.

She hasn’t really thought about him since that night Annie had procured his number and Beth had chosen to call Rio instead, but now here he is – eyes immediately taking her in and his lips forming a smile.

She wobbles a bit on her feet then forces the tiniest smile back. His eyes linger on her before he goes up to the guy unloading, sending him back inside.

Rio steps forward and she follows.

“What’s up?” he says, entirely unintimidated.

“You’re Rio?” one of them says, meeting Rio halfway.

His accent is Scandinavian, maybe, and incredibly thick.

Rio nods then points at her.

“Ms King.”

“A,” the guy points at himself, then at his colleagues: “B, C; you get it.”

“Cool. We all good?”

A nods then holds out a hand. “Keys.”

Rio’s first bit on unease shows and Beth represses an eye roll – of course letting someone else drive his car would be the only part of all of this that he has any problem with.

But he hands the keys over and A tosses it to D, who heads off with C to climb in. They’re pulling out when A points at them.

“Check them.”

Rio moves towards B to be searched as the bartender – Charlie, she remembers his name being – comes up to her.

“Hey,” he smiles from under his lashes.

And, god, she’s honestly not sure if the unrestrained panic she’s feeling is about the gun or him.

Before she can say anything, though, he continues: “Wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

“Oh, me neither,” she murmurs through her teeth, then tries to add a little laugh to cover it up.

“You look really pretty,” he adds.

“Oh, um,” she clears her throat. “Thank you.”

He looks about to say something else when B comes up, already doing a visual once-over of her prior to his search.

Beth can barely swallow she’s so nervous, but Charlie shakes his head.

“She’s clean.”

B gives her another look then nods at Charlie and moves off again.

Beth lets out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

“Thank you.”

“No problem,” Charlie shrugs with an easy smile. “You don’t _have_ a gun, do you?”

His tone is light, joking, and Beth swallows.

“No.”

“Good,” he grins. “They’d kill me if you did.”

Before she can say anything, even process, he’s moving off towards one of the two SUVs.

“I’ll see you there,” he winks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 👀


	21. Labels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as I said last time, this continues to introduce some themes that I intend to explore in the next part if you guys do indeed want it. Otherwise this is the end, I hope you enjoy :)

A is a bad driver.

This is what Beth chooses to focus on as they sit in the backseat of a car belonging to a man who doesn’t even have the decency to make up a full fake name.

Not that she’s smuggling a weapon into a meeting where there definitely shouldn’t be one; not that she could get a man killed because of it if anyone finds out; not that that man is openly interested in her and she has no idea how to tell Rio about it.

And though the latter is probably the least important, it’s also the thing that’s most difficult to pin down. Does she even need to tell him? It’s not like anything had happened between them – really at this point it’s just harmless semi-flirting from Charlie’s side.

And, moreover, would he even care?

She can already imagine confusion in his eyes and a “So?” on his lips.

Especially since what’s a big deal to her definitely can’t be to him – it’s been more than once in the past couple of days that she’s noticed women give him _looks_. Sometimes it had been someone in the crews they were meeting with; sometimes just a waitress or a receptionist. And if he’d noticed, he’s an expert at ignoring it.

So one good-looking bartender being overly friendly can’t qualify as front-page news.

Satisfied with this conclusion, Beth begins to nibble on her lip as the other two problems resurface.

God, why had Rio given her the gun? Is it some sort of test?

But he seems entirely relaxed when she looks over, head resting back with his hands in the pockets of his bomber jacket. She wishes she could talk to him, but A would definitely hear.

So instead she continues panicking in silence, trying to force herself to pay attention only to how bad of a driver A is.

* * *

Car doors slam as they all climb out.

C and D are already there, waiting by Rio’s car, and A shoots them a look.

“You wait here,” he instructs, then lopes off towards the other guys.

They’re in a huge industrial space filled with warehouses and Rio was right, it’s freezing cold.

It takes her back to that night, when she’d barrelled into Rio and he’d held her close; shielded her from the howling wind and her own fears.

_You’re ok._

She wishes he’d do so now, the guys looking back at them then talking amongst themselves in a way that’s making her incredibly anxious. What could there possibly be to talk about? All they need to do is show them the product.

Her eyes rove over them, trying to read their body language, but she feels a bit out of her depth.

“What are they saying?” she asks Rio, who seems unconcerned beside her.

“I seem like I speak Czech? Or that soundin like Spanish to you?” he raises a brow.

God, she didn’t even know it was Czech, but that’s not even what she means.

“No, just… what does it _seem_ like they’re saying?”

“Oh, I get it, you think they speakin Gangbanger?”

She glares. “That’s not what I said.”

“Oh, I musta not understood you so good ’cuz you was talkin Suburban White Lady.”

“Never mind,” she snaps, irritated.

He chuckles before observing them for a moment.

“They talkin about a soccer game or some shit. Just want us stewin; gettin under our skins.” Now he regards her with a frown. “And it’s workin, too, you look nervous as fuck.”

“Well, maybe I’d be calmer if you hadn’t given me what you gave me!” she whisper-screams.

“Listen, if you got a STD, that’s from someone else.”

She glares and he laughs.

“That’s _not _funny,” she huffs.

“Hmm,” he hums distractedly, eyes going over her shoulder. “Why’s that guy keep lookin at you?”

She blinks.

“What guy?”

“White Boy Bartender over there.”

Oh, no.

Looking over her shoulder, she sees that B and Charlie had made it here too and while B’s gone to join his cousins, Charlie’s leaning back against the SUV shooting glances their way.

“He’s not looking at me,” she refutes, voice tinny.

“Yeah, he is. Like it's his job or somethin. I mean, it could be for me, but I seen him at the bar before and he wasn’t undressin me wit’ his eyes then.”

She rolls her eyes.

“You’re being paranoid and exaggerating.”

He looks displeased by this but, before he can respond, A’s coming back up to them.

“Follow me,” he says simply.

She looks at Rio and he rolls his shoulders before following. She stays beside him and they form an odd formation, C and D behind A, with B and Charlie bringing up the rear.

She feels claustrophobic, stuck.

Feels like everyone knows about the gun in her bag.

Their staccato footsteps sound like her heartbeat.

Finally they make it to a warehouse that A unlocks before pulling open the massive door.

He gestures and they enter first, Beth’s eyes taking it all in.

It’s the size of a football field and _filled _with boxes, barrels and crates.

“This way,” A points and they follow.

With B and D staying outside – she supposes to keep watch – it’s just the five of them now, and Beth isn’t sure if that’s better or worse – she still feels trapped.

“Your barrels going out,” A says eventually, coming to a stop and waving a hand over the section he’s referring to.

There must be 300 barrels stacked in it. They’re bourbon ones, Rio had explained, and there’s a huge demand for them in the overseas whisky game.

“You want to take a look, or see what has come in?”

“Lemme see the Japanese shit,” Rio nods.

A nods too and points to a door off to the side that ostensibly leads to a smaller room.

She’s about to follow when she sees C approach, motioning for Rio to pose for being searched again, and she clears her throat.

“Uh, I’ll look at the barrels.”

Rio casts a backward glance before nodding knowingly, but A looks uncertain.

“I’ll stay with her,” Charlie pipes up.

Something changes in Rio’s eyes, but she’s distracted by relief as A nods in assent.

They go into the room, C waiting outside with his eyes on her, and she deliberately turns in the opposite direction as Charlie, trying to figure out what one would inspect on bourbon barrels.

Is she supposed to smell them? Is there some kind of certificate she could look at?

She’s trying to figure this out when suddenly Charlie’s beside her again.

“So can I say that I _never_ thought _this_ was how I’d see you again?”

She smiles a little. “It’s definitely weird.”

“How have you been?” he wonders as they move on to another barrel.

“Um. Good,” she frowns, unsure of how to sum up her life since the last time they’d seen each other. “How about you?”

“Honestly, it’s been crazy. Finding out my boss was involved with all of this, for starters,” he waves a hand around. Then he looks at her. “Thinking about you.”

She pinks under his gaze then swallows guiltily. “I’m sorry I didn’t call.”

“I didn’t expect you to. Just hoped.”

Beth takes a step back.

“I-I don’t know what to say,” she admits, shaking her head. “Honestly, I don’t have much experience rejecting men.”

“Ok, then don’t reject me.”

God, she's forgotten how unflappable twenty-somethings are.

“Trust me, you don’t want in on my life,” she attempts. “Sometimes _I_ don’t want in on my life.”

“I think I could probably change your mind about that.”

She has to laugh, unable to believe she’s really found herself in this situation.

“Did Detroit run out of beautiful twenty-five-year-olds or something?”

“I’m twenty-seven. And you’re different,” he says. “All the girls I know want to know what my favourite Snapchat filter is; you seem like you don’t even know what Snapchat is – and I mean that as the highest of compliments.”

“Actually, my nephew showed me,” she sniffs.

“Your sister’s son?”

“Uh. Yes.”

He’s looking at her with really open, interested eyes and Beth has no idea how to handle it, it’s completely throwing her off. Not to mention that he remembers her and that night well enough to remember Annie.

“You like kids?” he wonders.

“I do,” she nods. “I have four, actually.”

His eyes go incredibly wide before his gaze roams over her.

“Wow. Never would’ve thought.”

She rolls her eyes good-naturedly.

“…You’re sweet.”

He rolls his too: “That sounds like something you’d say to your son.”

“You _could_ nearly be my son,” she points out.

“Whoa – then my mom’s _really_ let herself go.”

She laughs, she can’t help it, and he looks way too pleased that he’s managed to evoke this reaction.

“Stop,” she reprimands, straightening her features.

“What? Making you laugh?”

“Doing everything you’re doing,” she says firmly but without making eye contact, going over to another barrel.

He joins her.

“Do you have a boyfriend or something?”

“I… don’t know,” she finishes lamely, realising.

As clear as Rio had made his feelings the other night, she still doesn’t know exactly how solid the ground is beneath them. She’s not dizzy, but she has just come off the rollercoaster; isn’t sure which way is up.

Something about thinking of him as her boyfriend feels wrong and she can’t quite place why. But, she thinks, he wouldn’t call himself it either, and that’s something different altogether.

She remembers the last time she’d attempted to get a straight answer about it out of him.

_Is that what we're doing? Seeing each other?_

_Thought you weren't into labels?_

“Wow,” Charlie’s brows shoot up. “I can’t believe some guy has you and isn’t locking it down. See, _I’d_ never make that mistake.”

She runs a hand over her face. “You need to stop.”

“Why? Because of your business partner?”

Oh god, that’s right.

Annie had told him that Rio’s like a brother to her.

Mentally cursing her sister, Beth clears her throat.

“For one.”

“Yeah, he’s kind of intense. But luckily I don’t scare easy.”

She scoffs. “Well, you should.”

“Maybe he should be scared of me.”

No, god.

She’s trying to work out a response to this when she hears a door shut and turns to see Rio emerging from the room with A.

“A’ight, barrels next,” he’s saying, voice carrying. “You got the papers?”

A nods then goes off to find the certification as Rio comes in their direction.

She makes sure to subtly put space between herself and Charlie.

“Any problems?” she asks when he gets to them.

“Nope.” His eyes go over first her then Charlie. “What about over here?”

“No, nothing,” she says a little too quickly.

“Hmm,” he acknowledges, then points. “You look at those over there?”

“Uh, no,” she answers sheepishly, still insecure about the fact that she has no idea what she’s actually checking for.

“Cool, let’s go.”

He leads and they head over, Rio beginning to touch, turn and inspect.

“Are they all from the same place?” she wonders.

Rio turns, about to answer, when Charlie puts a hand between her shoulder blades, guiding her to a little seal on one of the barrels.

“No, see this? That’s where it came from. It’s small, to throw anyone off, but there for the buyer’s peace of mind.”

He doesn’t remove his hand and it’s like they all notice it at once, the moment cracking like glass icing over.

Clearing her throat, she shrugs it off as she watches Rio’s jaw harden, eyes dark and dangerous.

Stepping closer, he lifts his chin. 

“Hey, man, why don’t you stay in your lane, yeah?”

Charlie stands broad-shouldered; unbothered.

“I am, thanks.”

Rio does that thing where his brows furrow really deliberately, the epitome of mock-confusion as he cocks his head.

“Your lane’s on her body?”

“I don’t think that’s really any of your business.”

Beth freezes.

The air seems to sizzle with static as the two men stare each other down and she’s just clocked C coming towards them – alarm bells likely also going off for him – when Rio steps even closer to her.

“Give it to me,” he says, low enough so only she can hear.

Her eyes dart up to his as she nearly chokes on her own spit realising he means the gun.

“No!”

And now his glare goes from Charlie to her.

“_Give it to me_.”

And the thing is, she doesn’t think he’ll actually fire it, but Charlie had made it clear that the guys would kill him if he’d allowed her to bring a gun in.

“Rio,” she whispers, trying to calm him down.

Splaying a hand across his stomach, she places herself entirely between the two of them, thankful for how much space she takes up.

“Problem?” C barks from behind Rio.

It distracts him just enough that with the strength of her whole body, she can push him away a little, widening the space between the two men.

“No, no problem,” she assures, trying to sound like her heart isn’t beating out of her chest. “We actually have to go; can we get our keys?”

He scans all three of them for a few moments then shrugs and pulls them out.

Taking them, she begins to tug on Rio and after one last filthy glance at Charlie, he comes along.

“I’ll be in touch,” he says to C, then barrels out ahead of her.

Outside, he wordlessly takes the keys from her and starts the car.

In a minute the warehouse is far behind them and Beth spins to him.

“I can’t believe you.”

“Funny, that’s just what I was thinkin,” he says with artificial amusement in his tone, eyes hard.

“That could’ve turned into a bloodbath all because you blew a conversation completely out of proportion!”

“A conversation,” he repeats, sharpening the edges of the word with his tongue.

She stares at him, unsure how to continue. There’s a hardness to him; a firm unwillingness to yield even a little.

“How would you feel if Marcus had handled that situation like that?” she tries appealing to a different side of him.

But it’s possibly the worst thing she could’ve said – he turns on her with renewed fury in his eyes.

“Why you always bring up my fuckin kid when we talkin about work?”

“You’re really going to pretend that had anything to do with work?”

“’Cuz _you_ was workin?” he shoots.

“…What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What, you don’t think I know what you look like when you flirtin?”

“You didn’t earlier,” she mutters, but moves on when he turns a puzzled eye on her. “I _wasn’t flirting_, Rio.”

“Yeah, ok.”

It’s disbelieving, dismissive, and she stares back incredulously.

She never would’ve thought she’d end up in this situation with him, and the way he’s handling it makes her feel cold and stupid. It’s too familiar, too dizzy-making.

And so, scoffing as he pulls up in front of her house, she puts up her defences as high as possible.

“So you can go around dating, but a guy can’t even talk to me?”

His head spins to her almost unwillingly.

“What the hell are you talkin about?”

She says nothing, just stares back.

_Are you going on a date or something?_

_Yea, actually._

She sees the moment realisation hits – his eyes widen, followed immediately by a deep eye roll.

“I wasn’t _dating_, Elizabeth. Someone asked me out and I said yea.” Before she can reply: “And we weren’t seein each other no more so I don’t see what that has to do with this.”

She scoffs harder; louder. “My mistake – let me rephrase: _a few weeks_ after committing to me, you liked someone so much that you went out with them, but I can’t have one casual conversation with someone _at work_ without you freaking out!”

With that, she climbs out of the car and slams the door behind her, stomping her way into the house.

He’s several seconds behind her, wary, and he eyes her as he enters.

“So now you the mad one?”

She watches him close the door behind him.

“Why, do you need to go call her so you have a backup ready?” she shoots, acidic.

His face twists as he comes to a standstill but he doesn’t say anything, just stares at her, till his expression has smoothed out again, calm.

When he finally speaks, it comes out low; as calm as his expression.

“I didn’t go on the fuckin date, Elizabeth.”

She blinks; rocks backward, stunned.

“Oh.”

She isn’t sure what she feels.

Embarrassed, maybe; relief, definitely. But also puzzled, she supposes. Why hadn’t he gone on the date? He’s right – they hadn’t been seeing each other anymore.

But now’s not the time to ask, Rio stepping forward to continue the conversation.

“And this ain’t about that,” he points out. “That prick disrespected you and he disrespected me and that ain't how we do shit. In my world, when someone disrespects you, you don’t just let it go.”

“In your world,” she repeats, emphasis heavy.

His eye twitches before he scoffs.

“You live on your own lil planet where nothin you do has consequences. I told you, that shit’s gonna get you dead.”

She can’t help scoffing.

“Right, because _that’s_ what you’re upset about.”

“You sayin I’m jealous?”

She heads to the kitchen, needing something to keep her hands busy.

“I don’t know what you are,” she admits, picking up a dish towel, “except for the least insecure man on the planet, so I have no idea how to process what just happened.”

She begins drying an errant glass as she hears him come in behind her.

“And what if I was? Huh? What then?”

Beth nearly drops the glass.

She makes sure to set it down before spinning back towards him.

“Why _would_ you be??”

The expression on his face is strange, amusement explicit but almost as if only to hide the anger.

“Maybe ’cuz that’s the exact kinda guy you look like you would be fuckin.”

“Right, because I’m a white middle-aged divorcee, so that _must _be the kind of guy I’d wanna waste some time with,” she spits, irritated.

He only looks more amused.

“You the one who said you wanted a toyboy.”

“First of all, I didn’t say that, you did. And secondly, I _wouldn’t_ say that because the guy I’m seeing now is only slightly younger than me and he’s already driving me crazy!”

He smiles slowly, somehow very pleased by this.

“Slightly? It’s like six whole years.”

She glares.

“That’s not funny.”

“It’s kinda funny.”

“God, why do I even bother,” she mutters, making to turn away again, but he stops her.

“Look, the why don’t matter, a’ight? What matters is I wanted to take care o’ shit and you thought you knew better. Again.”

She scoffs, annoyed that he’s equating this to the Nico situation.

“You don’t always have to handle things by sticking a gun in someone’s face!”

“Oh, so now this is about you?”

“No, at this point _I’m_ used to it,” she laughs and it's short; bitter. “But he’s a normal person, he didn’t do anything to warrant that.”

“I don’t give a fuck who or what he is; you ain’t there for that. When I say gimme the gun, you gimme the gun.”

Just like that, her blood’s boiling again.

“And when I say no, I mean no!” She throws down the dish towel and it lands with a thud. “You say _I’m_ gonna get myself killed, but you wanted to pull out a gun we weren’t supposed to have in front of guys who looked like they were gonna kill us if we breathed wrong! And for what??”

“That ain’t your decision to make!”

And now she’s sick of hearing that; sick of being defined only by what she is not.

“Then what am I, Rio? What is the point of me? If I don’t get a say and I’m not your successor, then what am I to you?!”

Her chest heaves as his jaw works.

When he finally speaks, it’s low; resigned.

“Go ask your bartender – apparently we ain’t nothin to each other.”

The words come out stilted, almost choked, and it makes realisation hit; calms her.

“That’s why you’re mad?” she asks softly. “Because he didn’t know we were together?”

His eyes run over her form almost involuntarily and it seems to make him angrier, his voice coming out huskier.

“Said he disrespected us, didn’t I?”

And the last of her anger melts away because _yes_, yes, he had.

She’s just still getting used to understanding what he actually means when he’s being so circumventive, and this particular situation is brand new to her; she’s never seen him like this before.

Stepping forward, she lets let her shoulders relax as she shrugs small, slow.

When she speaks, she makes sure it’s as soothing as possible.

“Well, we're business partners. He probably just didn't understand.”

His gestures are as aggressive as his voice.

“What's there to understand? You mine and that's it.”

Whatever she'd been about to say drops off her lips, her mouth dry.

“…I'm yours?”

He stares, jaw hard and guarded. She gets the idea that he wouldn't even have realised what he'd said if she hadn't repeated it.

“Yea.”

And it's his defensive tone and something in his eyes that tell her he's wary she'll be offended, which, she supposes, she could be, but the feeling in her chest tells her it’s the exact opposite.

She feels one word: _Finally._

Finally, for the first time, they feel tangible, like something she could hold in her palm and say _mine_. And maybe it’s not rock-solid, maybe it’s more of a butterfly, but it’s still something, and it's unfamiliar, how grounded she feels.

_I want you to stop making me feel like this is all in my head._

And despite everything he’d said the other night, this is the first time she really feels that what they are exists somewhere other than inside all her hopes.

She steps closer.

“Your what?”

Still, she wants more, wants it concrete; wants to be sure.

“Oh, so you into labels now, huh?” he shoots, tone cruel.

God. Why had she ever said that?

But she shakes her head, clearing it; ridding herself of the uncertainty. Forcing herself to be in control.

Because there is one more thing she needs.

“So if I'm yours... are you mine?”

The air is thick with her words and she wishes she could breathe, but it's like her lungs put everything into the short question loaded with too much.

His eyes go wide and then he steps closer too, his finger going to her hair.

Her eyes flutter closed for just a second as he moves it out of the way then caresses her cheek lightly.

“Mami, I been yours since the second you laid them baby blues on me.”


End file.
